


Until We Meet Again

by DontOffendTheBees



Category: Merlin (TV), Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: (just a bit- if you were okay watching Spirited Away you'll be okay with this), AU, Blood and Violence, Crossover, Dragons, M/M, Magic, Reincarnation, Spirits, Teen Romance, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4166883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontOffendTheBees/pseuds/DontOffendTheBees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pendragon's are moving house- but a wrong turn will change Arthur's life forever. Merlin Spirited Away crossover AU with beautiful witches, fearsome dragons and ominous shadows. Arthur has to do manual labour, Uther's a pig (literally), Kilgharrah's nicer than he wants you to think and Gaius is definitely not getting paid enough for all this nonsense.</p><p>Dedicated to keiren-fucking-walker for their birthday- hope things start looking up for you soon <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a stupid thing that occurred to me and then ran away with me a bit- the plot's not all that original but it ought to be a laugh anyway!
> 
> Dedicated to kieren-fucking-walker. Happy birthday, dear- here's hoping your luck takes a turn for the better very soon!

“Do stop sulking, Arthur,” Uther muttered disapprovingly, glancing at the slouching figure of his son in the rear-view mirror.

Arthur Pendragon huffed in response, slumping against the window and gazing morosely out at the unfamiliar countryside as it passed them by.

“Why do I have to move, too?” he grumbled, arms tightening around his parting gift from his school friends. “ _I_ don’t have a new job…”

“Can hardly leave you on your own,” Uther said, glowering at his son’s unconscious motion. “Ridiculous. Who gives a boy _flowers_ as a goodbye present?”

Arthur’s grip tightened protectively on the wilting blooms. “I like them,” he frowned as a petal fluttered free, dropping limply to his lap. “I think they’re dying…”

“Should have thrown them away,” Uther said, rolling his eyes. “But if you must keep them you can put them in water when we get to the house.”

Arthur sighed, leaning his head against the window. His father was right- he probably should have thrown them away. But how could he when they were the last present he was ever likely to receive from his best friends? Uther’s obvious disapproval was just an added bonus. He thumbed the label tied to the stems, his goodbye note, signed by the entire class. He wondered if he’d ever see them again. At least Leon promised he’d write…

They passed an immense grey building that could only be his new school, where he’d be spending the next six years of his life- unless something better came up for Uther, at least. He’d learned the hard way that nothing was set in stone. Maybe this time he wouldn’t bother making friends, not as many goodbyes to say when the time came to move on.

“We nearly there, yet?” he groaned, watching in dismay as another petal fell.

“Not long…” Uther said vaguely, concentrating on the road. “Think I missed our turning…”

Arthur groaned again- trust his dad to make the journey drag out as long as humanly possible.

The town was fading away, the sparse trees lining the roads growing more frequent. It wasn’t long before the car was trundling along a shady forest road, too narrow to turn back.

“Must be a turning somewhere up here…” Uther muttered, squinting through the gloom.

“Father…” Arthur said, clutching his flowers nervously as the woods grew darker around them.

“Just a detour, nothing to worry about,” Uther said calmly as the road wound on, and maybe it was the nerves talking but Arthur could’ve sworn it was getting narrower. Arthur wisely remained silent, no need to point out how uneasy the ominous road was making him. He was already on thin ice with his father for holding on to the flowers, he’d never hear the end of it if he confessed to being scared out of his wits as well.

That was when they reached the dead end.

“What on Earth-?” Uther exclaimed, slamming down the brake pedal moments before they slammed into the stone statue slap bang in the middle of the road. Arthur flew forward in his seat, silently thanking his father for the endless lectures on the importance of seatbelts. His flowers, however, were not so lucky.

He picked sadly at the crumpled stems, but there was little he could do to save them. He untied the label and tucked it in his pocket, determined to save at least a small part of home.

Uther had got out of the car, oblivious and uncaring of the fate of the flowers. He was standing in the road and tutting at what appeared to be a mossy stone statue of a snake. Arthur squinted at it, and noticed the wings furled at its back. A dragon, then. Whatever it was, it paled into insignificance before the enormous stone arch behind it.

Arthur got out of the car, eyeing the tunnel apprehensively. “Father…?”

Uther followed his gaze, eyes roaming over the impressive stonework around the arch. “Fascinating,” he murmured, stepping closer and inspecting the engravings. “I don’t recall seeing any mention of this in the guidebooks…”

 _Which probably means we’re not supposed to be here,_ Arthur thought bitterly, but remained silent as Uther ventured closer to the archway. It wasn’t until he set his first foot in the shadows of the entrance that Arthur spoke up.

“Father, we really should be leaving- the movers are probably waiting.”

“They’ve got a key,” Uther waved him off, stepping further into the shadows. “I just want to take a look- you can wait in the car if you’re too scared.”

“I’m not _scared!_ ” Arthur snapped, affronted. The Pendragons made no secret of their disdain for that word. Unfortunately the words alone were not enough to convince Uther, who was gradually disappearing into the gloomy tunnel.

Deciding that he’d rather chance the dark tunnel with his father at his side than wait alone in a forest with only a stone dragon for company, Arthur scampered after him.

* * *

 

The tunnel stretched on, seemingly endless, no light or landmarks to show the passing of time. Arthur thought for sure Uther would have given up by now, but it was almost as if his father was drawn to something on the other side. He was like a bloodhound with a scent, unyielding in his resolve. It was all Arthur could do to cling to his sleeve and keep up.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Arthur and his aching legs, a thin sliver of daylight broke through the darkness. He powered towards it almost eagerly, desperate to break free of the oppressive gloom of the tunnel, even if the alternative was an unknown land.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust as they stepped out into the daylight. The view as his vision cleared took his breath away.

They were standing at the edge of a field. And in the middle of that field, looming tall and proud above even the highest trees in the distance, stood a castle.

Its impenetrable stone walls gleamed in the sunlight, and the turrets cast shadows down on the town that surrounded it. The walls obscured Arthur’s view of anything at ground level, but he saw various plumes of smoke rising above the battlements, as if people were cooking over open fires. He thought he smelled something delicious in the air- duck, maybe?

Uther obviously smelled it too. “What is that?” he mused, setting out across the field. “Smells delicious.”

“Father!” Arthur called after him, fiddling nervously with the ring he wore on his thumb while his fingers were still too small. He couldn’t deny that the smell was as delicious as the castle was beautiful, but something about this whole situation left him with a cold feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. “The movers are waiting, we have to go!”

“They can wait a while longer,” Uther called back, not slowing down. “We’re here now, might as well look around!”

 _“Father!”_ Arthur whined, rooted in place. He probably would have remained like that if it weren’t for the ominous rush of chilly air that battered his back from the tunnel like it wanted to pick him up and carry him away, whispering in his ears. He whimpered and set off after his father, grateful at least that he was too far away to have heard the noise he just made.

The gate in the town’s outer wall stood ajar. Already something felt wrong- it was a town, shouldn’t there be some kind of noise? All Arthur could hear was the sound of the wind whispering through the grass. He reluctantly followed Uther through the open gate, muscles taut like a bowstring as he took his first step.

It was like stepping back in time. His feet landed on rough cobble stones, patches of hay strewn here and there as though horses had been grazing in the middle of the street. Thatched cottages hemmed the street, in varying states of disrepair, thick cobwebs hanging low over doorways and windows that looked like they hadn’t been opened in a hundred years.

Uther appeared unfazed, following his nose through the deserted streets. Arthur scuttled along behind him, internally waging war with himself over the pros and cons of just running back by himself and trying to find his way to the new house without dad or the car. He didn’t like his chances, so he grudgingly trailed behind his father as he searched for the source of the delicious smell that grew stronger with every step.

The smell became overpowering as they rounded a corner into another street. At the end of the block a stall front was open, and a range of strange and exotic looking meats were cooking over open fires. Platters full of the stuff filled the air with the intoxicating aroma, mingling with the smoke from the fires and leaving no room for even the musty smell of old hay in the streets.

His father practically ran to the stand, calling out for service. After a few minutes, no one came forth from the shadowy recesses of the stall, and Uther sat down and started helping himself.

“ _Dad!_ ” Arthur exclaimed, formality forgotten. “You can’t do that!”

“I’ll pay them when they get back,” Uther huffed, heaping his plate with as many different types of food as he could manage. “Sit down and eat, Arthur- I’ve got more than enough cash on me to pay for us both.”

Arthur was sorely tempted for a moment, but something about that food didn’t sit right with him. The smell, though wonderful, was also clingy and cloying, he felt sticky just inhaling it. Almost as if it was too rich for consumption, and for him that was saying something- their family hadn’t exactly grown up in poverty.

“We’ll get in trouble,” he said weakly, but Uther wasn’t listening. He was eating the meats like a last meal. All his usual etiquette seemed to go out the window as he practically inhaled mouthful after mouthful.

Arthur set his jaw, turning round. Just because he wasn’t going to eat didn’t mean he had to stand here and watch his father pig out.

He ambled through the deserted streets, surveying the crumbling town curiously. A long time ago it was probably beautiful, bursting with life, people probably came here from everywhere to trade. Seeing it now was like staring at an old photograph that had been left out in the sun, just a shadow of its former self.

His wandering took him from the winding streets into a grand plaza, a well with a rusted chain in the centre. And before him, preceded by a grand flight of stairs, was the castle itself.

He probably would have stood and gaped at it all day if it weren’t for the interruption.

“Who’re you?”

He jumped at the voice, spinning round guiltily.

Behind him, standing just outside the shadow of the castle, stood a boy.

He looked young, probably no older than himself, but he was tall and skinny. His dark hair waved over high, pale cheekbones, his shocking blue eyes stared out at him with something like horror. The intensity of his gaze was worrying, and Arthur turned self-conscious for a moment- did he have something on his face?

The boy took three long strides forward, grabbing Arthur’s wrist and yanking him back away from the castle. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“What-?”

“Go!” the boy snapped, glancing up at the sky with wide, terrified eyes. “The sun’s about to set!”

Arthur followed his gaze, and realised he was right- how long had they been there? “I don’t understa-“

“Just go!” the boy repeated, shoving him back towards the street he came from. “Get past the gates before the sun sets, don’t look back!”

At this point, Arthur was only too happy to oblige.

He sprinted through the darkening streets, making his winding way back to the stall where he’d last seen Uther. He kept glancing up at the sky, the sun sinking lower and lower with each passing minute.

“Father!” he shouted, running towards his father’s blurry silhouette in the smoke from the stand. “Father, we have to go!”

He practically slammed into his father’s side- had he always been this massive? He grabbed the back of his jacket, tugging for all he was worth.

“Dad, _move_!” he yelled, trying fruitlessly to drag his father’s vast weight from the chair. “Stop eating, get up! Dad, _look at me!_ ”

The colossal shape of his father shifted, shoulders slouched and head lowered, and cold dread crawled up Arthur’s spine. He looked wrong, shapeless and massive. Something was wrong…

“Dad?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

Then his father turned to face him, and his blood ran cold as he stared into black eyes in a droopy, fleshy pink face.

The pig in his father’s clothes snorted, screeched, and circled back to the food, scrambling over the counter to reach the furthest recesses. Arthur backed away slowly, too scared even to scream.

“Dad…” he whimpered. The pig paid him no heed, snuffling deep into another platter of spicy meat. Meat that looked an awful lot like pork to Arthur’s horrified eyes.

Suddenly the pig- his father- recoiled, a loud crack breaking the quiet. Another crack, then another, and the pig flopped to the ground with a pained squeal. The cane flew down for another strike, the hand that held it seeming to bleed right out from the shadows themselves.

The shadows…

Arthur’s head snapped up. The sky was darkening, the sun had almost disappeared behind the battlements. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’ll come back for you,” he choked, sparing one last horrified glance for the pig writhing on the ground before turning on his heel and sprinting for the wall. He had to reach the gate, that’s what the boy said- get to the gate before the sun set. It was his only chance.

As the sky grew darker the street around him seemed to come alive. Cobwebs disappeared, rotten buildings looked new again, and suddenly the town wasn’t a faded photograph anymore. And with the return of the old town, the spirits came.

They were formless at first, dark blots against the sandy stone, but as the sun sank lower their shapes grew more defined. A woman hung out her washing. Two little boys chased a hoop across the cobblestones. All of them seemed totally oblivious to the living boy in their midst, drifting to and fro with no regard to his frenzied escape. He ran through a couple of them on his way to the gates, and those ones at least had the presence of mind to look offended but he didn’t care. He had to escape. He couldn’t slow down, not for a second.

The gate came into view, and he redoubled his efforts. He’d never run this fast in his life, his breath tore out in ragged bursts and the cramp in his side screamed at him to slow down, but he forged on.

He wasn’t fast enough.

The sun set below the horizon, the streets were cast into darkness.

He kept running even as the natural light was replaced with the glow of lanterns lit by the spirits, mind set on barrelling through the gates. He tripped on a jutting flagstone, pitching forward and crying out as he skinned his hands on the ground. He reached forward, determined to escape even if he had to crawl on his hands and knees.

His hand came down, and was submerged in icy water.

He yelped, yanking it back and staring with horror at the incomprehensible sight before him.

The field was gone. Beyond the gate lay only water, a vast moat with no end.

He was trapped.

* * *

 

“It’s a dream, it’s a dream, it’s a dream,” he muttered, clamping his hands over his ears to drown out the growing noise of the spiritual citizens as they went about their business. “It’s just a dream, I’ll wake up, I’ll wake up…”

He opened his eyes, and found himself in the same spot, collapsed on his knees before the endless lake. He covered his eyes with his hands, and realised with mounting horror that he could still see.

“What?” he whimpered, holding his hands out before him. But all he could see was a transparent outline where his hands should be, fading to pink at his wrists, but the empty space was spreading and his fingertips were almost completely gone.

“Oh, God!” he yelped, desperately rubbing his transparent hands together as though he could pull them back into existence with friction alone. “Wake up, wake up, _wake up!_ ” he hissed, panicking as more of his skin faded away.

“You’ll make it worse.”

He turned round, and there he was again.

The boy with black hair and blue eyes watched him sadly, taking a few long strides and standing in front of him. He reached out and took Arthur’s arm above the elbow, a few inches away from the encroaching line of empty space.

“It’s not safe here,” he murmured, tugging Arthur along. He followed without question, not sure what else he could possibly do at this point.

The boy stopped behind a cottage in a sheltered alcove, dropping to the ground and pulling Arthur down with him. Arthur collapsed limply to his knees, which were slowly disappearing along with his arms.

“Here. Eat.”

Arthur shook his head vigorously as the boy held something out to him. It looked like a berry, but Arthur had learned the hard way what food could do to you in this place.

“Don’t worry,” the boy said, guessing his thoughts. “It won’t turn you into a pig. But you need to eat some food from the spirit world if you want to stay here, or you’ll disappear completely.”

Deciding that he’d rather be a pig than dead anyway, Arthur reluctantly took a bite.

It tasted foul, and he scrunched up his entire face in an effort not to spit it out. The boy rubbed soothing circles on his back with one hand, muttering quietly in his ear.

“That’s right, chew a few times,” he said quietly, glancing furtively up at the sky. “Now swallow it, don’t spit it out.”

Arthur gulped it down, grimacing as the revolting substance slid down his throat.

“See? Wasn’t so hard, right?”

He looked up to see the boy grinning, hand raised in front of him as if he was about to go for a high-five. “Works, as well- see for yourself.”

Arthur slowly raised his hand, the feeling gradually returning to his fingers. He pressed his palm lightly against the dark-haired boy’s, sighing in relief as he felt the pressure of physical contact and his last view of the boy’s pale skin disappeared behind a solid barrier of his own flesh. The last of the transparency was gone, and he was back.

“Thank you,” he breathed, head flopping forward.

“Don’t thank me yet,” the boy murmured, glancing around again. “You can’t just stay here…”

His eyes widened, and he launched himself across the foot of space between them. “Get down!” he hissed, covering Arthur as best he could with his own body.

Arthur froze, holding his breath.

An enormous crow soared above them, circling menacingly like a vulture. Something about the bird filled Arthur with dread, and he realised he wasn’t the only one when the other boy’s body went tense above him.

But the bird’s soulless black eyes drifted right past them, and with a flap of its wings and a screech it was gone.

The strange boy let out a breath, sitting back and pulling Arthur upright. “We can’t stay here, that bird’s looking for you,” he whispered, tugging Arthur’s hand. “Come on, get a move on.”

If it was a choice between following the strange boy and waiting for that crow to come back, he saw no alternative. At least the boy hadn’t tried to turn him into any farm animals yet. Arthur nodded, allowing himself to be tugged along at the boy’s fast pace. “Where’s my father?” he asked meekly, shivering as he remembered the bloated monster in his father’s clothes.

“You can’t see him yet, but you will,” the boy reassured him, squeezing his hand. Arthur decided he’d just have to take his word for now.

They cut through the streets, carving a route through the massing spirits- unlike his earlier escape attempt, Arthur managed not to walk through any of them.

Before long they were back in the grand plaza, only now it was far from empty. Spirits of all shapes and sizes milled around, scuttling up the great stairs at the foot of the fortress. Phantoms that looked like the squires from Arthur’s old storybooks welcomed them warmly, although Arthur found it hard to view their smiles as welcoming when they were shifting around on their faces.

“Arthur,” the boy said, his voice a low hum in his ear. “We need to get up those stairs. I can cast a spell that will hide you once we’re in the stronghold, but I need your help- do you understand?”

“Yeah, I…” he frowned. “Wait, how did you know my name was-?”

_“Do you understand?”_

Arthur blinked, shaking his head. Right, questions later. “Yeah, okay- what do I have to do?”

The boy murmured something under his breath, his eyes flashed gold. “I just made you invisible to the spirits,” he said, tugging Arthur closer to his side out of the way of an approaching phantom. “But we need to anchor the spell. We’re about to go up those stairs into the castle- I need you to hold your breath until we reach the top.”

“Hold my breath?” Arthur gulped, eyeing the staircase worriedly.

“Just from the bottom step until we reach the doors. It’s important- even the tiniest breath will break the spell, and then they’ll be able to see you. You understand?”

Arthur nodded, but his grip on the boy’s arm tightened. _I’m scared…_

“Just stay calm,” the boy whispered, making Arthur jump. Had he said that out loud?

The stairs were just a few strides away, and Arthur felt like he would have collapsed if it weren’t for his grip on the boy’s arm.

“Take a deep breath…”

Arthur obliged, drawing in a slow breath through his mouth and praying that his term on the swimming team in year six had prepared him for this.

Their feet came level with the first step, and the boy spoke again. “Now hold it.”

Arthur closed his mouth and clamped a hand over his nose, resisting the temptation to screw his eyes shut as well. They mounted the staircase, and Arthur concentrated on the solid presence of the boy at his side, following in his footsteps.

It was going so well up until the final three steps.

“Master Lin!”

The creature jumped out before them, bounding on frog-like legs to reach their eye height. Its pointy ears twitched, its mouth twisted up in a devious grin.

“You’re back!” it exclaimed in a reedy voice, practically smacking into Arthur’s face. He couldn’t help it.

He took a breath.

“Wha-?” the creature yelped, dropping to the ground. “A human?”

The boy named Lin waved his hand, and the creature froze mid-jump. “Hold on,” he muttered, grabbing Arthur round his waist just as the ground fell away from under their feet. It took Arthur a moment to realise it was they that had moved and not the stairs, because Lin had picked them up and was swooping up the final steps effortlessly as the temporarily petrified creature fell to the ground behind them. Several other spirits leapt aside as they sped past, wide eyes following Arthur like he was some kind of spectacle. One particular spirit, vaguely humanoid in shape and currently frozen in place halfway up the staircase, watched him go with above average curiosity, but he didn’t have time to worry about that.

They glided into the castle and through several twisting hallways before Lin set them down. Arthur almost fell over, his stomach churning worse than it had on that cruise to the Bahamas when he’d got seasick. Lin steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not safe for you here,” he muttered, glancing around to make sure they were unobserved.

“I took a breath, I’m sorry,” Arthur said, eyes wide.

“You did fine,” Lin said, grimacing. “But that goblin has a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, it's just a shame neither of you could keep your big mouths shut. I can’t hide you anymore, but if we play our cards right you’ll be able to stay here. I’ll draw them off your trail, you follow my instructions and you’ll be fine.”

“Who put you in charge?” Arthur muttered out of sheer force of habit, but it was difficult to be obnoxious and commanding when you were lost and queasy in another dimension. Lin didn’t answer except for a raised eyebrow, and Arthur gave in. “Why’re you leaving?”

“Have to do something,” Lin said vaguely, ruffling Arthur’s hair. His hand hovered on his forehead, fingers pressing lightly against the skin. “Now listen carefully…”

Arthur gasped as images flooded his mind, images of twisting corridors and hissing pipes.

“You need to keep going down this hallway,” Lin’s voice whispered in his head, the directions appearing in Arthur’s mind as they were spoken. “Then take a right. Keep going until you see a heavy metal door, and go through it. You’ll find yourself in the boiler room. When you get there, speak to Gaius.”

“Gaius?” Arthur murmured as an image of a hunched old man with limp white hair presented itself.

“The boiler man,” Lin explained. “When Morgana took over this old castle and turned it into a bath house for the spirits the dungeons became the boiler room. That’s Gaius’s domain- when you find him you need to ask him for a job.”

“A job?” Arthur stuttered.

Lin smiled wryly. “ _That’s_ the most horrifying thing you’ve heard today?”

“Why do I need a job?” Arthur asked, confused and appalled.

“It’s the only way you’ll be allowed to stay here,” Lin said. “Gaius will refuse you at first, but you’ll have to insist. It’ll be hard work, but it’ll keep you alive. Don’t take no for an answer, got that? Tell him I sent you.”

“Okay,” Arthur said nervously. “Boiler room. Talk to Gaius. Got it.”

Lin smiled, patting his back and sending him on his way. “Good luck.”

Before Arthur even had time to blink, he was gone.

* * *

 

He had to hide out of sight behind pillars and planters more times than he could count, but eventually Arthur made it to the boiler room.

The heavy metal door screeched on its hinges as he shouldered it open, he winced as it grated against the rough stone floor. The disturbance sent a layer of soot and dust billowing into the air- obviously no one used this entrance much.

He clambered down the carved stone staircase gingerly, eyes flickering around for threats. No sign of any spirits down here, but a soft clattering noise floated through from the next room, growing louder with every step. The next thing he noticed as he advanced was the heat, scouring his skin as he drew closer to the source. His dry eyes prickled uncomfortably, and oh, what he wouldn’t give for a pair of goggles right now.

He rounded a corner and blinked back tears of pain as he came face to face with the source of the heat. The furnace roared, as high as the ceiling and made of iron as black as the coal it burned. He was surprised the heat didn’t burn his eyebrows right off his face.

He coughed, the hot air drying out his throat in seconds- how long had it been since he’d had anything to drink? “Hello?” he choked, glancing around the deserted room. “Mr. Gaius?”

He took a step forward, and heard a clatter at his feet. He looked down and saw the lump of coal roll away, leaving a black smudge on his shoe. But… should coal smudges move?

“What the-?” he yelped, hopping back as the smudge puffed out, broke free and sprang to the floor with a squeak. Two flimsy arms flailed at him in annoyance, tiny feet stomping as it scurried over to its dropped cargo. The lump of coal was twice its size and yet it picked it up like it weighed nothing. It gave him one last irritated chirp before scampering back to work, hoisting the coal above its head defiantly and lugging it towards the furnace.

“Who’re you?”

He tore his gaze from the retreating creature and looked up. He finally noticed the high table at the other end of the room, surrounded by more levers and pulleys than he could count. The old man hunched over it surveyed him from his perch on his spindly stool, his gaze disapproving.

“Well?” he demanded, old voice surprisingly strong. “Speak, boy- or have you no tongue?”

“Lin sent me,” Arthur said hurriedly, picking his way across the floor and attempting to avoid the scurrying creatures.

“Lin?” the boiler man said, raising his eyebrow. Arthur got the feeling he did that a lot.

“Yes,” Arthur gulped, feeling the old man’s disapproval right down to the soles of his feet. “He told me to ask you for a job.”

“Did he, now?” Gaius chuckled, turning back to his desk. His arthritic hands were picking through a selection of weeds and herbs, gathering seemingly random combinations together into bunches and lining them up beside a waiting mortar, stopping only to tweak a lever now and then.

“So, uh…” Arthur mumbled, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. “Can I have a job, please?”

“I don’t know- _can_ you?”

Arthur rolled his eyes- it was his picky year five English teacher all over again. “ _May_ I have a job, please, sir?”

“Very good,” Gaius nodded approvingly, but he remained unsmiling. “But I’m afraid there’s no work for you down here, boy- this place is full of soot, I have all the workers I need. Try somewhere else.”

 _Don’t take no for an answer,_ Lin’s words echoed. He took a deep breath and tried again.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I really need a job,” he persisted, edging closer.

“I don’t need you,” Gaius replied nonchalantly, not even looking at him.

“But- oh, sorry!” he said as another soot creature smacked into his foot. This one, however, was not so lucky. Its lump of coal fell on top of its head, squashing it into the ground. Its stringy arms waved helplessly out from the sides, accompanied by distressed squeaks.

Arthur crouched down and grabbed the coal, hoisting it up with both hands and finding it was surprisingly heavy. The sprite wasted no time in darting back to its hole in the wall, leaving him hovering in the middle of the floor with the coal.

“Uh, what am I supposed to do with this?” he called after it, his arms already aching.

“Finish what you started, boy!” Gaius barked, gesturing towards the furnace.

Fair enough. Arthur set his jaw and straightened his back as much as his heavy load would allow, but he found himself shuffling towards the open stove in a sort of sideways crab walk all the same. Soot sprites parted around his feet, watching his progress with curious squeaks.

He was surprised the heat of the fires didn’t melt his face off. He staggered onwards, burden growing heavier with every faltering step towards his goal. He dropped the coal the second he was close enough, jumping back as the roaring flames engulfed it like a hungry beast. He sagged against the wall, smiling triumphantly.

His glee faded when a chorus of distressed squeaks brought his attention back to the crowd of sprites at his feet, who were all deliberately flattening themselves under their own coal chunks.

“Back to work, you lot!” Gaius snapped at them, rapping his knuckles on the table. “And you,” he said, turning to Arthur. “You can’t just walk in here and take someone else’s job- those lot stop working and the enchantment wears off, they turn right back into soot. There’s no work for you here- go somewhere else!”

The sprites sounded as offended as he was. “But…”

“No buts, run along!” Gaius tutted, turning back to his work. “Some of us have work to do.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by the creak of another door opening.

“Lunch time!” a chipper voice called out, a graceful figure gliding over from the service hatch she’d entered through. “How goes it, Gaius?”

“Beastly as usual, Gwen,” Gaius said with a laugh, reaching out and taking the offered bowl eagerly. “These fancy clients do like to push the herbal soak limits.”

“Don’t I know it,” she agreed, rolling her eyes. “Morgana should really start charging extra for those. Salt?”

“Please,” Gaius smiled, holding out his bowl as she picked up the grinder from the tray. She glanced up, and her gaze landed on Arthur. Her eyes widened.

“You!” she blurted, pointing. “Morgana’s looking all over for you- how’d you get down here?”

“Um…” Arthur floundered.

“He’s my grandson.”

Arthur and Gwen turned to Gaius wearing matching expressions of disbelief. “Seriously?” Gwen asked, glancing between them both.

“Yes,” Gaius said between mouthfuls of rice. “Came here looking for a job but I’ve got nothing open- will you take him up to see Morgana, Gwen? I’m sure she has something for him somewhere here.”

Gwen’s gentle brown eyes were practically the size of saucers at this point. “You want me to bring a _human_ to her? Are you serious?”

“It won’t take long,” Gaius cajoled. “Just point the lad in the right direction.”

“But…”

“Gwen,” he said firmly, the eyebrow once again making a break for his hairline. “Don’t you owe me a favour?”

Her dark skin did nothing to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Fine, I’ll do it,” she said feebly, backing away towards the service hatch she’d climbed through. “Come on, kid- doesn’t do to keep Morgana waiting.”

“Uh, okay,” Arthur said uncertainly, glancing back towards Gaius. Okay, so he hadn’t managed to get a job directly from him like Lin had said, but what else was he supposed to do?

Gwen looked at him disapprovingly as he sidled up to her. After a moment’s pause she rolled her eyes and sighed wearily.

 _“Thank the boiler man,_ silly goose,” she chastised, giving him a look that suggested she knew exactly what lies the old man was telling on his behalf. “He’s really sticking his neck out for you, y’know.”

“Oh, right,” Arthur exclaimed, embarrassed. He turned round and offered Gaius an awkward half bow. “Thank you, Mr. Gaius.”

“Take care of him, Gwen,” Gaius said, watching them depart with an amused expression on his face.

* * *

 

Arthur had no idea why one in possession of a castle would choose to remodel it into a bath house, but he had to admit it was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

Copper pipes twisted and tangled above his head, disappearing at intervals into carved grooves in the stone walls. Occasionally steam would hiss out from a pipe near his feet and it took every ounce of self-control in his body not to jump three feet in the air, and Gwen would give him a look that bordered somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

She was a pretty girl- well, young woman, she was probably at least eighteen. She had nice skin and bright eyes and her hair curled in such a way that he’d probably be attracted to her if he wasn’t lost and afraid for his life. Priorities, as his father would say.

She led him through seemingly endless corridors, grand stone atriums, past creatures of all shapes and sizes (and smacked him upside the head whenever he stared at them too long, admonishing him for his rudeness). The smells of soap and spices and strange herbal concoctions drifted to him through the steam, warming him down to his core.

“Don’t get used to it,” Gwen said, noting the way he sniffed the air appreciatively. “Third floor’s coming up.”

The third floor, as it turned out, was where they catered to trolls and the like. As such, the tubs were not used for warm herbal water and instead overflowed with mud and various other substances that Arthur didn’t particularly want to look closely at. He kept a hand clamped firmly over his nose until they were safely out of reach in the next staircase.

“Morgana’s office is on the top floor,” Gwen said, holding open a door for him. “Where the old throne room used to be. Well, approximately- but this place has been remodelled a lot since then.”

Arthur didn’t bother to ask when ‘then’ was. No doubt it was a long, long time ago and there was no point filling his head with useless dates when he could be filling it with ways to survive in this strange spirit world he’d fallen into.

An indeterminate amount of time later (after a while you just give up counting the turns), Gwen came to a halt, almost tripping Arthur as he was forced to stop in his tracks. She turned to him, smiling apologetically.

“Afraid this is as far as I go,” she said, nodding down the hall. It was empty aside from one enormous door about halfway down, carved from dark wood and adorned with intricate carvings and a gleaming silver knocker. “Morgana doesn’t much like people traipsing around up here…”

Arthur gulped and nodded, taking a step forward. “Okay, well… thank you.”

“My pleasure. And, um…” she leaned in close, patting his shoulder. “Be polite.”

She turned and walked away, skirts sweeping the floor in her wake. Arthur took a deep breath, and timidly advanced to the door.

It was even more imposing up close. He tried not to look too hard at the engravings because the longer he looked, the more menacing faces he saw staring back at him. It was creepy enough that the heavy decorative knocker was shaped like a face- a woman with long, flowing hair and piercing eyes. Arthur gulped past the dread the sinister ornament filled him with and raised his hand, pressing it against the wood and preparing to push.

“Aren’t you even going to _knock?”_

The knocker’s silver eyes turned on him, delicate mouth curling into a scowl. Arthur’s blood ran cold.

“Honestly,” the knocker continued, sneering. “Children are so rude these days. Well then, you insolent little thing, I suppose you’d better come in.”

The door swung open, seemingly of its own volition. The knocker never removed its gaze from his face. “Well,” it said coldly, rolling its eyes. “Come in.”

He was frozen to the spot. If this was just Morgana’s front door, then what could he expect from the lady herself?

“I said come _in._ ”

He gasped as an invisible force gripped him, the front of his shirt bunching as if held in a fist. He was yanked forward, the door swinging shut with a heavy thud behind him as his feet skimmed the floor.

He was in a great chamber, as tall as it was long, but most of it remained cast in shadow. The only source of light appeared to be at the opposite end of the room, where an ornate desk sat surrounded by a myriad of candles (many of which appeared to be floating in mid-air).

The invisible force dropped him a few feet from the desk, dumping him on the floor unceremoniously. He groaned, rubbing his leg where he was sure a bruise from the impact would be forming, and looked up to take in the display fully.

The desk was covered in papers, quills and various vials of shimmering substances Arthur couldn’t name. Where the rest of the room remained dark and cavernous this small little pocket was cast in candlelight, reflecting off potions and shining golden light on the delicate quills in their inkwells. And behind the desk, sitting proud and imperious and tapping her quill against the desk impatiently, was a woman more beautiful- and no doubt more dangerous- than any flames she cared to surround herself with.

The woman- who could only be the Lady Morgana herself- sneered at him, perfect red lips curling cruelly. “I wondered where you’d been hiding,” she said, quill sweeping over the paper in front of her. “You certainly made a spectacle of yourself, the entire castle is abuzz with gossip about the human in our midst.”

She gently set the quill down and stood up, dominating the room with her presence.

“So tell me, child,” she said sweetly, gazing at him with calculating eyes. “Why would a human boy, after successfully hiding himself in the spirit world, then throw it all away by coming to my office of his own volition?”

“I…” Arthur rasped. “I, uh, want a job.”

She raised her perfect eyebrows.

“…Please?” he added shyly.

“So let me get this straight,” she said slowly, leaning her perfectly manicured hands on the table. “You and your father storm uninvited into my city, you gorge on the food of the spirits like pigs, you cause a scene in front of my guests and trail your smell through my bath house… and now you want me to give you a _job?_ ”

“Well,” he said, knowing he should probably keep quiet and ignoring his own advice. “You did turn my father into a pig.”

“Your _father_ got exactly what he deserved,” she sneered, mocking his formality. “Perhaps you’d like to join him in the pig pen? Or maybe you should be a different animal- a toad, perhaps?”

“I just want a job,” he reiterated, Lin’s _don’t take no for an answer_ mantra looping in his head.

“I see you’re as impudent as your father,” she said distastefully, nails clicking on the desk irritably.

“Please just give me a job!”

“Enough!”

Suddenly there was no desk standing between them. Morgana stood so close that he had to crane his neck right back to meet her fiery gaze. He instantly regretted it as he felt those dangerous nails against his throat, pressing in, and he had no doubt that she could tear right through his skin if she chose to.

“Why on _Earth_ would I give you a job?” she snarled. “Anyone can see you’re just an impudent, spoiled brat who’s never had to work a day in his life. I should turn you into soot where you stand!”

She bent down, her beautiful, deadly face hovering just inches from his own. A menacing smile tugged her lips, her nails pressed into the skin of his throat.

“Or…” she mused, voice icy. “Maybe I could just give you the most difficult job I can find, and work you until you breathe your very last breath…”

He felt the bite of her talons in his skin, and panic set in. He took a deep breath, ready to scream.

Something else beat him to it.

Morgana jumped back at the sound, a mournful, pained screeching. It echoed eerily in the vast chamber, magnified tenfold by the cavernous stone walls, and Morgana’s face drained of colour.

“Oh, dear…” she said, sweeping past Arthur with barely a glance as she darted for a rusted trapdoor at the other side of the room. She flung the heavy hatch open, making gentle noises in an attempt to sooth the distressed creature as she descended into darkness.

Arthur remained frozen, unsure what to do. Did he run? Would there be any point? Deciding he wouldn’t make it far on his own in this place without being caught and it might just anger her further, he reluctantly kept his feet planted. He heard the vague sounds of her murmuring calming words to whatever lay beneath that door, her voice softer than he’d heard it so far, he’d even go so far as to say she sounded affectionate.

Finally the screeching subsided, and Morgana’s words faded with them. When she emerged she seemed smaller, wearier, her perfect hair breaking free from its careful arrangement as she held a hand to her forehead like she was nursing a headache. The trapdoor swung shut behind her, silencing once and for all the last quiet noises of the creature.

Morgana looked at him as she passed, but the heat of her gaze was gone, replaced by resignation. She flicked a hand, and a sheet of paper and a quill flew from the desk and into Arthur’s hands.

“Sign your full name,” she said coldly, fixing her hair and the scattered bottles and papers from her earlier outburst with another gesture. “And I’ll put you to work. Blasted oath, have to give a job to anyone who blunders in asking for one…”

Arthur hurriedly scribbled his name at the bottom of the contract, not giving himself too much time to think about what he was doing. It was this or be hunted down- and Lin must know what he was doing, right?

“Are you done, yet?” Morgana asked, not waiting for an answer before she swept the paper out from his grasp with a click of her fingers. She settled back behind her desk, running her calculating gaze over the paper.

“Arthur Pendragon,” she said in a sing-song voice, a little too mocking for Arthur’s taste. “Lovely name- certainly too nice for you.”

She raised her hand, sweeping it over the paper. Arthur watched in fascination as his inky scrawl on the paper broke free, several letters floating up and disappearing in Morgana’s palm as though she’d absorbed them into her skin.

“And now it’s mine,” she smirked, slipping the edited document into a desk drawer. “From now on your name is Penn,” she addressed him firmly, and he felt her words washing over him. “Understood? Answer me, Penn!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said hurriedly, a little too quick to respond to the unfamiliar name. Why was it unfamiliar?

“Good,” she said, satisfied. She picked up a delicate golden bell from her desk and rang it, and Arthur had no idea who she could possibly hope to summon with that from such a vast room.

“Yes, my lady?”

He spun round, and tried not to let his jaw hit the floor as he met Lin’s cold blue gaze.

“Lin, my dear,” she said in a sickly sweet voice, the endearment a feeble disguise for the icy intent behind her words. “Do show my new employee the ropes, won’t you?”

“Yes, my lady,” Lin said, his voice flatter and colder than Arthur had ever heard it. It was almost like he was a different person. Lin’s dull eyes turned to him, not a flicker of emotion on display. “What’s your name?”

“Art-“ Arthur began, catching himself just as he felt Morgana’s admonishing look. “Penn. My name’s Penn.”

“Follow me, Penn,” Lin said, still in the same monotone. “I’ll show you to your accommodations.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Morgana cooed, and Arthur thought he saw Lin’s shoulders tense at the nickname. But he remained silent, offering Morgana a formal bow before turning and sweeping out, not even checking to see if Penn- _Arthur,_ he sharply reminded himself- was following.

He didn’t need to worry. Not even magic could convince Penn to stay in the Lady Morgana’s presence a second longer than necessary.

* * *

 

“No way! Send him somewhere else- we’re not taking humans!”

Penn scowled up at the foreman resentfully. Agravaine, a stout man with oily black hair and thin lips, was far from a pleasant customer. What’s more, his tirade had attracted the attention of pretty much the entire bath house staff and then some, making Penn’s integration into the ranks a public spectacle. As if he wasn’t already the centre of attention today.

“Morgana hired him, he’s under contract,” Lin stated, allowing no room for arguments.

“But a _human?_ ” another voice chimed in from the crowd, belonging to a pretty girl with long red-brown hair and an imperious sneer. “He can’t come near our quarters- he’ll stink up the place!”

“A few days eating our food and his smell will go,” Lin said, drowning out Penn’s little cry of protest.

“Give him to Gwen,” someone else chanted, laughing. “She likes that sort of thing.”

This suggestion was met with numerous mumbles of assent, and an awful lot of laughter from the staff. Across the room, huddled quietly against a wall, Gwen blushed in embarrassment and attempted to hide her face in her hair. Penn didn’t know if he wanted to feel sorry for her or indignant that apparently taking care of him was a cause for such shame.

“Then it’s settled,” Lin said flatly, nodding at Gwen to beckon her over. “Gwen will take care of Penn and make sure he settles in- take him to get his uniform and run him through his duties, he starts work tomorrow.”

He left without another word. Penn struggled to conceal his disappointment- mind you it was no great loss, the boy had been acting weird ever since he’d walked into Morgana’s office. Penn scurried to Gwen’s side, keeping his head down, deciding that maybe she was onto something with the face-hiding idea.

She waited until they were out of sight of her giggling colleagues before turning to face him. But to his surprise, her look of embarrassment had been replaced by a relieved grin.

“I was so worried about you!” she exclaimed, pulling him in for a brief but tight hug. “I never thought you’d actually _do_ it- how’d you talk her into giving you a job? I was worried sick! Are you alright? You look pretty shaky, are you ill?”

“Uh,” Penn blinked owlishly, caught in the onslaught and unsure where to begin. “Well, she was scary but she said she had an oath or something, and I’m okay, just scared and…” he thought back to Lin’s cold eyes, shuddering. “A little confused, I guess.”

“Well, it’s been quite a day,” Gwen said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping. I won’t be in the room with you- boys and girls are roomed separately. But I know a couple of your roommates, they’ll look after you when I’m not around. Once you’re settled in I’ll leave you to get some sleep- you’re going to need it.”

Penn hurried along behind her, terrified of losing his way in the endless corridors. “Gwen?”

“Yes?” he asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“That boy, Lin…” he began uncertainly, glancing around to check that he hadn’t popped out of the shadows again. “There aren’t two of him, are there?”

“ _Two_ Lins?” she laughed, shaking her head. “We have a hard enough time dealing with one! He’s the Lady Morgana’s apprentice- best not to trust anything he says, I’m afraid.”

He nodded, his heart sinking. Was all of it lies? Had Lin just pretended to help him to get him here? Maybe this was how they recruited new workers and he’d just walked into a well-practiced trap.

In a slightly less opulent part of the castle that Penn assumed to be the old servant’s quarters, Gwen pushed open a door without preamble. Penn followed her into a dim room, walking the narrow path between the hammocks that hung suspended from the heavy roof beams. About eight hammocks filled the space, one of which appeared to be occupied.

“Ever heard of knockin’?” the blanket-covered mound grumbled, a sleep-mussed head poking out over the top. Unruly brown hair and a light coating of stubble greeted them, two bleary dark eyes blinking in the light that streamed forth from the open door.

“Nice to see you’re having a productive day off, Gwaine,” Gwen said with a roll of her eyes, striding right past him to the opposite wall and the old cupboard doors.

“Really should knock, sweetheart,” he said, chuckling. “I might’ve been indecent for company.”

“Nothing we haven’t seen before, Gwaine,” she said grimly. “At this point I’d be amazed if anyone on Morgana’s payroll didn’t know what you looked like in the nude, you’re not exactly modest.”

“I can see at least one exception to the rule,” Gwaine pointed out, nodding down at Penn. “Who’s this?”

“New boy, sharing your quarters,” she explained, rummaging around for a uniform in Arthur’s size. “So be nice and work on cutting down the public indecency, he’s just a little one.”

“Hey!” Penn complained, but both his elders laughed.

“How old’re you, squirt?” Gwaine asked, grinning. “Ten?”

“Twelve,” Penn huffed indignantly, puffing out his chest as far as he could, attempting to look a little less scrawny. He could tell that wasn’t going to work when Gwaine sat up and revealed the muscles lurking beneath his blankets.

“Right, yeah, my mistake,” the older man sniggered. “Didn’t mean to offend you, half-pint.”

“My name’s Penn,” he grumbled, folding his arms over his own thin chest self-consciously. He’d often been told he was strong for his age but standing next to a fully grown adult like Gwaine he might as well be a string bean.

“Behave, Gwaine,” Gwen admonished, handing Penn a folded stack of assorted clothes. “Poor lad’s had a long day.”

“Alright, alright, just messing around,” Gwaine laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Gwen smiled reassuringly at Penn, patting his shoulder. “He can be pretty annoying, but he’s a decent bloke- he’ll look after you. I’m going to go get some food, I’ll bring some back for you, you just settle in here for now,” she marched over to Gwaine and grabbed his arm, hauling him towards the door. “As for you, you can help. About time you got out of bed.”

Gwaine grumbled good-naturedly, barely managing to shrug on his shirt before Gwen had him out the door.

Penn stared for a while at the space where they’d been, feeling at once both relieved and lost in their absence. He slowly crossed over to the one hammock that appeared unoccupied by either persons or possessions, setting down his little bundle of work clothes with a sigh.

He had no idea what this place had in store for him, but he got the feeling he’d need all the friends he could get.

It was just a shame that no longer seemed to include Lin.

* * *

 

_“Meet me on the stairs. I’ll take you to your father.”_

Penn wished the people here would make up their bloody minds. One minute Lin’s giving him the cold shoulder, now he’s breezing into the dorm in the middle of the night with a whispered message and a promise. He debated whether or not he should do as he was asked, but it wasn’t about him. He was doing this for Uther- he had to know he was okay, and right now Lin was his only shot.

He waited until the first dim glow of dawn was showing, knowing that no one else would be up and working for at least another hour or so. He retraced his steps back to the boiler room, shyly greeting Gaius as he darted through. There were other ways to the main entrance, but he got the feeling that Morgana wouldn’t be best pleased if she found him skulking around anywhere but the servants’ quarters at this time in the morning.

Lin was waiting for him on the grand staircase, small smile in place. Someone was in a better mood.

“Come on,” the dark haired boy said, not wasting any time. “The pens are around behind the stables.”

Penn followed him, staring at the back of his head as if he could find the answers to his many questions in that tangled mess of hair. So far he’d met two versions of Lin, and he guessed that only one was genuine. Which one that was? That was anyone’s guess. Still, Lin was taking him to his father- he wouldn’t do that if he was completely under Morgana’s thrall, would he?

“He’s in there,” Lin said quietly, coming to a halt outside the pens. He gestured to one in particular, a separate partition where about a dozen of the slightly smaller pigs snuffled in the mud. “That’s where she puts them until they’re fat enough to…” he winced, obviously realising how tactless that was but unable to take it back. “Sorry.”

Penn crossed numbly over to the enclosure, eyes immediately finding the pig that he knew to be his father, although he wasn’t sure how he could tell. The pig that used to be Uther snuffled and snorted, slick with mud and grime, and he was already bigger than the last time he saw him. It wouldn’t be long until…

“I’m getting you out of here, dad,” Penn choked, fingers clenching on the wooden guard rail between them. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Just,” he sniffed, swiping furiously at his eyes. He couldn’t cry in front of his father, human or otherwise. “Just stop eating so much, I can’t get you out of here if they eat you, okay?”

The pig didn’t answer, but then he didn’t expect him to. Penn turned his back on the grunting animals, feet carrying him away before he could think to check if Lin was following.

He was about three feet out of the pig pens when he finally sagged to the ground, not much caring about his new uniform as his knees hit the dusty ground. He gritted his teeth and rubbed his eyes a mite too forcefully, trying to chase away the tears that were dying to escape. He hadn’t been raised like that, to break down crying when things got tough. He was a boy, and one day he’d be a man, like his father, and men didn’t cry.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and within moments Lin was crouching at his side. The boy’s blue eyes looked brighter, somehow softer than yesterday. Maybe this was the real Lin, the one without Morgana watching his every move. He rubbed soothing circles on Penn’s back, and with his other hand reached into the satchel he’d been carrying all morning.

“Here,” he said gently, pulling out a familiar bundle of fabric. “I saved these for you.”

“My clothes?” Penn said, taken aback. “I thought they’d been thrown away.”

“Almost, but you’ll need them if you’re going to get out of here,” Lin explained, pressing the bundle into Penn’s arms and rummaging around for something else. Penn ran his hands over the clothes, his favourite ratty old t-shirt- which he’d only been allowed to wear after reasoning with his father that a nice one would most likely be ruined in the chaos of moving- and his jeans. He heard a rustle, and reached tentatively into the pocket.

He stared at the messy writing on the little card, eyes widening on one particular word. “Arthur…” he looked at Lin. “That’s my name, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lin said, reaching over to fold Arthur’s fingers down over the label. “Hold onto that, keep it close. Morgana keeps you here by taking your name- as long as you know it you’ll be able to leave one day.”

“I forgot,” Arthur said slowly, disbelievingly. “How could I-?”

“Never underestimate her,” Lin said sagely, and the haunted look in his eyes told Arthur that this was a lesson learned from experience. “Her power manifests in dark, deceptive ways. Most people don’t even realise they’re under her spell until it’s too late…”

Arthur’s shoulders slumped, he let out a defeated sigh. “Do I even have a chance of getting out? Does my father…?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Lin said firmly, jaw set in determination. “You may have some hard work ahead before I can find a way to get you out, but I won’t leave you stuck here.”

“Why do you care?” Arthur asked suspiciously- a tone of voice he’d definitely picked up from Uther.

Lin smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I already lost my name, and my life with it,” he said quietly, looking back down to his bag. “I won’t let you lose yours.”

“You don’t know your name?”

Lin shook his head. “Ha!” the triumphant noise startled Arthur, and it took him a moment to realise Lin had obviously found what he was searching for. He held out the small loaf of bread to Arthur, grinning. “Eat up- you’re gonna need all the strength you can get! Guessing you’ve never had much experience with manual labour?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and refused to reply- he was too emotionally exhausted for witty retorts. He was still more than a little wary of food from this realm, but he took what Lin offered. If there was one person he could possibly trust in this strange new place, it was Lin.

He took a bite. It was tastier than he’d expected, so he took another. And another. He was getting a little too frantic but he didn’t care.

Somehow with no one else watching, with food in his belly and images of the animal that used to be his father rolling in the dirt, it was easier to let the tears escape. He almost dropped the bread so he could hide his face, but Lin didn’t laugh at him. He just kept a hand on his back and stayed quiet, allowing him the opportunity to have his breakdown in peace.

The gentle acceptance sparked something in Arthur’s chest that he didn’t want to think about.

* * *

 

“When will I see you again?”

Lin shrugged, glancing up to the upper castle where Morgana was surely lurking. “Soon, with a bit of luck. But Morgana has one or two ‘chores’ for me that’ll take me out of town for a few days, so you’ll just have to do your work and keep your head down until I get back.”

Arthur’s face turned sour at the thought of work, but he nodded. “Mind if I ask what kind of ‘chores’ she sets you?”

“I’m not sure you want me to answer that,” Lin said with a grimace. Arthur had to admit he was probably right.

“Well,” Arthur sighed, taking a backwards step towards the castle. “I’ll see you later.”

Lin smiled at him one last time, one of those honest smiles that somehow made Arthur feel like everything was going to work out.

“Later, Arthur,” Lin said, mock saluting. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned away, hurrying towards the entrance with his clothes tucked as discreetly as possible under his waistcoat. Even though the sun was rapidly rising and the early morning rush would be starting any minute, he couldn’t help turning back for one last look.

But Lin was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 

Work was exactly as hard as promised, and then some.

Gwen rather helpfully showed him the ropes and pointed him in the right direction whenever he got lost (which was a lot), but the rest was down to him and he was already knackered. His overseers had him scrubbing floors, cleaning windows, and lugging a seemingly endless supply of water buckets to and fro. A bathhouse had quite some surplus of the stuff, after all. He did at least attempt to look like he wasn’t about to expire from the effort whenever Gwaine walked by, who always carried two full buckets like they weighed nothing. Arthur had decided that he wasn’t going to be shown up by the older man, and the small rivalry gave him something to think about other than his aches and pains.

After a few days of work he was so used to the strange creatures and spirits that walked the halls, he barely noticed the shadow in the rain.

It caught his eye as he was emptying a bucket of mucky water into a drain from one of the servants’ entrances. It stood tall, at least the height of a man, and seemed fairly humanoid. Two arms, two legs, or at least as far as he could see. Everything else was indistinct, no clear outlines or features, a strange black shape that seemed to melt in and out of its surroundings. He couldn’t see a face, but he could feel it staring at him. He froze- this was one eventuality Gwen hadn’t prepared him for.

“Uh,” he fumbled, glancing between the shape and the safety of the castle. “Are you lost?”

The shape didn’t answer.

“Are you a guest?”

Still no answer. That was probably an affirmative- most of Morgana’s customers deemed themselves too important to respond to the servants.

She probably wouldn’t look too kindly on him leaving a customer out in the rain.

“I’ll leave the door open for you,” he mumbled, picking up his bucket and walking away. Morgana had some creepy customers.

He got back to work, and soon enough he was too tired to pay another thought to the shape in the rain.

* * *

 

“Hey, Gwen?” Arthur called up, giving his arms a rest from the endless scrubbing.

“Yeah?” she grunted, still hard at work on the upper edge of the tub. Today they’d been assigned the job of cleaning ‘The Big Tub’, supposedly the most undesirable job in the castle. He could see why.

“When I first started working here, and no one would take me ‘cause I was human…” he said slowly, desperate to satiate his curiosity but unwilling to offend one of the only friends he had. “They told you to do it because you ‘liked that sort of thing’. What did they mean?”

The sounds of Gwen’s scrubbing ceased, and Arthur desperately hoped he hadn’t overstepped. He couldn’t afford to lose Gwen, not while Lin was still away. But instead of a sharp retort or a scolding all he received was a sad little sigh. He looked up at her, puzzled, and noticed that she had put down her brush and was clambering down towards him.

“It was a few years ago,” she said, sitting down beside him, ignoring the thick layer of dense muck that cushioned them- they were covered already as it was. “Someone else came here. Someone like you- well, bit older, but human. He got trapped here. But he didn’t last long.”

She sighed again, pulling her knees up to her chest. “He didn’t eat enough of our food, he didn’t get a job, and he was always on the run from Morgana and the spirits. He hid in the stables, I found him there while I was watering the horses. I visited him as much as I could, but I was followed. Morgana caught us. I guess in a way it’s lucky that was the day he faded completely, I don’t know what she would’ve done…”

She smiled weakly, brushing a wayward curl of hair out of her eyes. “Anyway, I suppose the incident became kind of infamous round here. A lot of people won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said awkwardly, ducking his head.

“It’s alright,” she said gently, patting his shoulder. “It’s all in the past, we move on. Speaking of, better get back to work- this grime isn’t going to chip itself off.”

Arthur picked up his brush again, glancing at Gwen one last time. “What was his name?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. He couldn’t speak by the time I found him…”

“Hey, you two!”

They both snapped to attention, looking up to the voice. Morgause, a fearsome blonde woman and second in command to Morgana, smirked down at them. “Hurry it up- you’ve got a customer!”

“Already?” Gwen exclaimed, flustered. “We’ve barely started!”

“Well you’d better get working and finish up,” she said coldly, and Arthur got the distinct impression that she enjoyed making them panic. “Morgana certainly wouldn’t want to hear that you’re keeping customers waiting!”

She turned round and dropped out of sight, and Gwen cursed quietly under her breath.

“Looks like we’ll have to take a shortcut,” she muttered. She beckoned Arthur over and put her hands together. He took the signal and stepped onto them, allowing her to boost him over the high edge of the tub.

“Go to the foreman and get us a herbal soak token,” she said, peeking over the edge. “We’re not going to have time for a deep clean, best just soak the tub and hide the grime.”

“Okay,” he nodded, jumping down from the tub and darting out of the room. He wasn’t exactly relishing the idea of talking to Agravaine, but he had a job to do.

Unfortunately, the foreman seemed determined to stop him doing it.

“Forget it, I’m not wasting one of those on you,” Agravaine sneered, looking down his nose imperiously at Arthur like he was a piece of gum stuck to his shoe. “Go scrub it yourself.”

“I don’t have time to scrub it myself,” Arthur replied, irritation making him a bit ruder than strictly advisable. “I need a token, the customer’s-!”

“Scrub it yourself!” Agravaine snapped again, waving him away like he was swatting a fly.

Arthur was ready to protest again, but his words dried up in his mouth when the shadow appeared.

It was the same one he’d seen in the rain, he was sure of it. Tall, dark, with a slight feeling of wrong-ness, as if it didn’t quite belong in this world. The bit he assumed to be its head bobbed slightly in his direction, and knowing not to be rude to customers, he gave a shallow bow in return.

Agravaine followed his gaze, but by then the shadow was gone. “Who’re you looking at?” he asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

In the short time he was turned away, an invisible force picked up several tokens from the counter and dropped them helpfully into Arthur’s hands.

He stared at them, dumbstruck, but had the good sense to hide them behind his back before the foreman turned to face him. “No one. I, uh, better get back to work, thank you sir!”

He darted away before he could be asked any more questions.

* * *

 

The Lady Morgana’s elegant spine straightened, her piercing eyes narrowed. Her magic was tingling beneath her fair skin, buzzing restlessly like a current through her veins.

“Something’s coming…” she murmured, gaze flickering towards the window. She reached out and snagged her ornate mirror from across the desk, tracing a swooping pattern across the surface with one deadly fingernail.

The calm expression of her right-hand woman came into view, shimmering on the surface like a projection. “My Lady?” Morgause asked, nodding politely.

“There’s something coming,” Morgana told her, tapping her fingers restlessly on the desk. “Send a contingent out to the front steps, try and stall it.”

“A human?” Morgause asked, grimacing. “Seems we’ve been getting a lot of those of late.”

“Too powerful,” Morgana said with a shake of her head. “See to it, I’ll be down presently- we might have a tricky customer on our hands.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Morgana nodded, and dissolved the image of her assistant with a stroke of her hand. She stood up, velvet gown trailing behind her as she glided towards the door, her power roaring beneath the surface as it sensed the approach of another being of magic.

* * *

 

“Wow, you got some really good ones!” Gwen praised him, opening a hatch on the wall. “I don’t know how or why you managed to get so many, though…”

She took a hold of the dangling rope revealed by the trapdoor, clipping a herbal soak token to the hook on the end and giving it a sharp tug. It sprung up and away, disappearing behind the stones. Gwen nodded towards the tub, and they both crossed over and clambered up to the edge.

“That pulley sends it to Gaius in the boiler room,” she explained, helping him up the last few feet. “Then he sends us the water with the formula. We’ll soak the dirt out- even if it doesn’t work the steam’ll be too thick to see the sludge at the bottom.”

“Isn’t that cheating?” Arthur said, although he rather liked the idea pulling the wool over their supervisors’ eyes.

“Maybe- but we haven’t much choice at this point,” she said, reaching up and pulling on a rope that hung suspended from the ceiling, drawing a broad, open-ended pipe over the tub. “Sometimes you’ve got to learn to cut corners.”

She yanked down on the rope, and a thick stream of hot water erupted from the pipe. The sound of raised voices caught their attention, and they both turned around with confused frowns. It sounded like the ruckus was coming from the entrance hall.

“I’d better see what’s going on, make sure Gwaine hasn’t started another fist fight,” she muttered, shoving the rope into Arthur’s hands. “Tug that again when the tub’s full, I won’t be long.”

“Alright,” Arthur said, watching her hike up her skirts and scurry away with a frown. He’d been around for a few Gwaine-related debacles so far, and they’d never created this level of noise before. Something else was going on for sure. A cold tingle up his spine only confirmed his fears, similar to the sensations he’d felt in Morgana’s presence.

Whatever was causing the ruckus, it was something considerably bigger than a brawl.

* * *

 

The creature had no shape that anyone could see. It oozed and bubbled, brown sludge dripping from its heaving sides and painting the path it walked in filth. A foul stench preceded its arrival, sending any who sought to impede its progress running for cover.

Morgana surveyed it coldly from the gates of the citadel, summoning Morgause to her side with a snap of her elegant fingers.

“My Lady?”

“Fetch Penn,” she said, wrinkling her nose as the stench grew more powerful with every sliding, slippery step the creature took. “I have a little job for our new employee.”

* * *

 

“Stand up straight, and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, understood?” Morgana said in the tone and volume of a drill sergeant. “Respect and deference at all times, that’s the Camelot way, and I won’t lose a customer because of your attitude.”

Arthur bit his tongue, holding back a probably less than respectful retort. He was already one of the witch’s least favourite people, back talking wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

“Lady Morgana!”

They both turned to the voice, and found Morgause looking a little green in the face. “The-“ she gulped reflexively, her forehead beaded with sweat. “The customer is nearly here.”

“Good,” Morgana said, whipping a thin cane supposedly from thin air and rapping Arthur swiftly at the base of his spine with a disapproving glower. “No slouching.”

Arthur bit back a very disrespectful suggestion about where she should stick that cane and turned his attention to the door, adopting the politely professional stance he’d seen on other employees.

That was when the smell reached them.

“Oh my-!” he grunted, hands flying up to clench over his nose. He received a swift rap across the knuckles from the cane.

“Don’t be rude,” Morgana snapped, although she was looking a little off-colour herself.

He held his hands by his sides with tremendous effort, and tried not to scrunch his face up too obviously as his ‘customer’ slithered through the door.

“Welcome, good-“ Morgana stammered, eyes widening as the smell hit her afresh (and she realised she had no idea how to assign genders to a blob of formless sludge). “Er, valued customer. Welcome to Camelot Baths.”

The sludge offered a guttural moan in response.

“I’ll be leaving you in the very- hrm- capable hands of our- ack- newest employee,” she rattled off the sentence as smoothly as possible, and to her credit only gagged twice. “Penn, direct this, er, being to the Big Tub,” the slimy appendage that waved practically under her nose jolted her memory. “Oh! And, uh, do take the nice customer’s money while you’re at it.”

Arthur stiffly held out his hand, resisting the urge to say some very unflattering things about her- mostly because he could already smell the stench, he didn’t particularly want to open his mouth and taste it as well. The creature waved something gooey that could have been an arm or a tentacle over his hand, and a small mound of gold that was more goo than metal flopped wetly into his palm.

“Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth, turning stiffly around. “Please follow me, sir- ma’am- uh, whatever.”

He shuffled stiffly back the way he’d come, ooze dripping slowly through his fingers and joining the symphony of squelches from his customer (who must have been at least eighty percent liquid, solids usually didn’t, well, _bubble_ this much).

Gwen had been true to her word- the steamy water did indeed hide the sludge caking the tub. But there wasn’t enough steam in the world to hide the gurgling mass of his customer as it slid slickly into the water. Its colossal mass barely fit in the tub, and weaves of displaced water flooded over Arthur, nearly drowning him on dry land. He coughed and spluttered, barely keeping his hold on the gold- which was, at least, much cleaner now- and staggered back a few steps.

His customer seemed far from satisfied. It gazed forlornly (he didn’t know how a glob of slime could look forlorn, but it managed) at its slippery limbs, moaning in distress at whatever it saw. It looked to Arthur and bellowed again, and somehow Arthur understood what it wanted.

“Uh, okay,” he stammered, fumbling around in his pockets for another herbal soak token. “One moment…”

* * *

 

“Where did he get the extra tokens?” Morgana asked, squinting suspiciously at the scene playing out beneath her.

Agravaine floundered, shaking his head. “I didn’t give them to him!”

“What on Earth is he doing?” Morgause asked, bewildered.

“He’s trying to refill the tub,” Morgana said in clipped tones, fingers tightening on the guard rail of the old stone balcony they observed the scene from. “Better be prepared to open the floodgates.”

“Well, shouldn’t we stop him?” Agravaine said, mouth flopping in a rather unflattering imitation of a fish on dry land.

“No, no,” Morgana said, an amused gleam in her eye. “I’m rather interested to see how he handles it…”

* * *

 

He half walked, half skidded to the hatch on the wall, pulling it open just like he’d seen Gwen do. He fumbled for the rope, struggling to attach the token with slippery hands and water dripping into his eyes from his sodden fringe. Finally it slotted into place, and he tugged the rope and sent it flying away to Gaius.

It was no easy task getting across the room when water weighed down his clothes, and scaling the side of the slippery tub was no picnic either, but he persevered. This was his first customer, and there was no telling what Morgana might do to him if he couldn’t do what was required.

When he reached the edge he stood practically face to slimy face with the creature, and a fresh wave of fetid breath from its gaping maw almost knocked him right over. But he reached up and seized the rope, yanking the pipe into position with a grunt just as he heard the tell-tale hiss of air that always preceded-

The torrent of water knocked him clean off his feet, the rope burned his palms as his slippery hands slid off, and he collapsed into the tub with a gasp as the world around him flooded.

* * *

 

For a moment he felt strangely peaceful.

Not a sound to be heard but the muffled rush of water around his ears, nothing to be seen but a wobbly blue haze as the chandelier glinted through the veil.

Then he was plunged into darkness, and the panic set in.

He couldn’t move his arms, his head and neck were locked in place, and he didn’t dare open his mouth for fear that it would fill with the sickly substance that held him prisoner. All he could do was kick his legs and squirm fruitlessly, waiting until he ran out of air and passed out completely.

Something slick and squelchy wrapped around his waist, and he felt the sludge clinging to his hair and clothes as he was dragged free.

He came up gasping for air as he was hauled above the surface. The water roared in his ears, and he realised the faucet was still running on full blast. He squirmed in the slime creature’s grip, meaning to pull the rope and cease the flow.

Instead the creature moved him away from the pipe, closer to its own body. Its features were obscured behind the thick veil of steamy water but he could still see the dark mass beneath. It held him so close he had to tilt his head back to escape having his face submerged in the jet, and he felt another slim tentacle wrap around his wrist and guide his hand to… something.

“What?” he muttered, frowning. Taking a deep breath, he stuck he head into the curtain of water. What was it showing him?

There was something in its side. It felt like wood, rough and splintered to the touch, and it was deeply lodged- it wouldn’t budge as he shoved against it.

He emerged spluttering from the waterfall to a cry of his name.

“Penn!”

He looked over to where Gwen stood, drenched to the skin, a mask pulled over her nose and mouth and gripping a mop (which was, frankly, a little ridiculous at this point). “Gwen!” he shouted, coughing as he swallowed more water.

“Hold on tight, I’m coming to get you!” she called, wading through the new lake that had formed around the tub (and probably the entire ground floor).

“I think they need our help!” Arthur called, nodding to the submerged form of his customer. “There’s a thorn stuck in their side!”

Gwen yanked down her mask and frowned, confused. “A thorn?”

“A _thorn?!_ ”

They both looked up as Morgana descended, somehow still flawless even as the wind and water whipped her hair and gown.

She hovered magically at Arthur’s side, smirking. “I knew it. Something tells me this is no ordinary stink spirit we have on our hands,” she held out both her hands, and a coil of rope materialised between them. “Tie this round the thorn, quickly!”

Arthur caught the end she threw at him, and once more ducked into the curtain of water. His hands found the thorn, and he looped the rope around as tightly as he could. When he was sure it was as secure as he could make it he emerged, spluttering water.

“Done it!” he shouted, and blinked as he realised that pretty much the entire castle staff had flooded into the room and the corridors beyond, the rope lengthening to accommodate them as everyone took a hold and lined up like the biggest game of tug of war he’d ever seen. Gwen scrambled up behind him, taking the rope directly behind him and planting her feet on the side of the tub with a nod and an encouraging smile.

“Alright, everyone!” Morgana bellowed, beautiful voice booming louder than he would have thought possible. “On my word! And… _HEAVE!”_

The rope stretched taut, the combined workforce of Camelot lending their strength. Morgana continued to bellow her commands, the entire line pulling with all their might on her signals, until finally Arthur felt something start to give. He redoubled his efforts, planting his feet and leaning all his slight weight back, and wishing for the hundredth time that he was a little older and stronger.

The tip of the thorn came into view. Inch by inch, until it was reaching a foot in length. Arthur frowned- this was the biggest, weirdest thorn he’d ever seen.

It wasn’t until they’d revealed about two more feet of wood that he realised what he was really looking at.

“A cart?” he said, staring in bewilderment as the old-fashioned wooden cart came into view, rope still firmly tied around one of its broken handles. It looked like the sort of thing one would hitch a donkey up to, the sort he’d seen trundling around the streets of the spiritual city as the sun had gone down.

Morgana seemed delighted by this discovery. “Just as I thought…” he heard her mutter, her eyes flaring as she increased the volume of her shouts. “ _HEAVE!”_

They pulled and pulled, and more debris spilled out, tangled together with the cart. He saw battered shields and splintered planks, all sorts of strange, old-fashioned tools that he couldn’t name, and at one point he swore he even saw a skull grinning at him from inside a rusted helmet. Still they pulled, and he could feel them getting to the end.

Soon the floor was crowded with junk and dripping with ooze, and all that remained was a single solitary string that Arthur tugged at insistently until it popped out with a slick squelch, the slimy fishing lure resting innocently in his hand as the hole it had plugged hissed with the release of noxious gas.

A fresh wave of steam rose, along with something that sounded like a contented sigh. Arthur felt the world fall away for a moment as he was swept up by water, held suspended in a careful embrace. He didn’t panic this time- somehow he knew the water wasn’t trying to drown him.

A face loomed before him. Not imposing, not threatening. Delicate features, long dark hair that rippled gently in the flow of water around them. The woman, beautiful in a serene way that was Morgana’s polar opposite, smiled gently at him. A pale, slender hand reached out and closed over his.

“Thank you…” she whispered, brown eyes gleaming with happiness.

Her hand slid away, her face faded from view, and he felt the water around him recede as he was plunged back into reality.

He and the other inhabitants of Camelot were knee-deep in debris and sludge, quiet save for the confused mumblings of dissent as everyone wondered where exactly their customer was beneath all the junk.

That was when she erupted from the nearly empty tub, swooping through the air with gleeful laughter, water trailing behind her like the train of a fantastic gown. She darted right by Arthur, circled cheekily round Morgana once or twice, and then vaulted elegantly out the window and into the sky.

The entire room fell into stunned silence for a minute.

Until one helpful soul (probably Catrina) shrieked gleefully as the first nugget of gold glinted through the receding sludge.

“Hands off!” Morgause snapped as employees scrambled to retrieve whatever scraps they could dredge up. “That’s property of Camelot, and therefore Lady Morgana! _Oi, goblin, keep those sticky fingers to yourself, y’hear?”_

Arthur was so bewildered by the surrounding chaos that he didn’t notice Morgana was behind him until her hand was on his shoulder.

“Not bad, boy,” she said with a sly smile, squeezing his shoulder in a gesture that could almost be friendly. “I’ve heard of the Lady of the lake, but I never thought I’d see her or her legendary wealth in person. Maybe you’re not such a useless layabout, after all.”

She swept away, snapping at the lingering employees to clean up the mess, and Arthur couldn’t help but notice that the gold she stepped over seemed to vanish. Obviously she was quite the hoarder.

“Penn!” Gwen squeaked, launching forward and enfolding him in a hug. “You did great- I was so scared when I walked in, I thought you’d _drowned!_ Did you see her? Did she talk to you? I don’t think anyone’s ever heard her voice! Did she give you gold? What’s that in your hand?”

“What?” Arthur blinked, almost bowled over by the onslaught of questions. The last one caught his attention- he hadn’t been aware of holding anything. He looked down and found his hand clenched into a loose fist. He slowly uncurled it, and gazed in confused wonderment at the delicate yellow flower in his palm.

“A flower? Hmm, how odd,” Gwen said, shrugging. “Suppose it’s kind of sweet. Ah well, we’d better get out of here- I reckon you’ve done enough for today without getting roped into cleaning duty, eh? If we slip away now we’ll still be in time to grab lunch. Coming?”

Arthur nodded, stomach growling at the mention of food. He gently tucked the flower into one of the buttonholes on his waistcoat, unwilling to risk letting it get crushed in his pocket. He had no idea what it was or what it did, but it was probably safe to assume that any gift from a legendary lake goddess was worth hanging on to.

* * *

 

The shadow hovered unnoticed as the chaos ensued. It watched with rapt attention as the creatures in the witch’s employ scrambled and fought over the glimmering fragments of gold on the floorboards. The only one who didn’t join the ruckus was the boy, his gaze fixed instead on the small flower in his palm. So far the child was unlike any other employee of the witch, seemingly untainted by the strange and selfish ways of the spirit folk.

He was the shadow’s best chance.

It waited until after dark, when the floor had cleared. Waited until, inevitably, one worker came back to see what gold he could scrape from the cracks in the floor. The greed of the spirits was their most predictable trait.

Illusions were easy to the shadow, and so was gold- it was simply matter, after all, compressed and rearranged into something shiny and valuable to those who had time for such things.

The worker- a goblin, a fickle thing even greedier than the average spirit- watched the gold materialise in the shadow’s palm, and the glint in his eye betrayed his intent. He leapt forward with a cackle, grabby hands clawing for the prize.

He didn’t stand a chance.

The shape lashed out with formless limbs, and the hapless goblin was sucked into its inky mass like a pebble sinking into murky waters.

As the last ripple disappeared, the shadow shuddered and shifted, and its limbs took on new definition recognisable as the goblin’s on closer inspection. Physical characteristics were often transferred, but that wasn’t what it needed right now.

Right now, what the shadow needed was a voice.

* * *

 

“So you scrape one of the wealthiest spirits in existence out of a thousand years of sludge, and all you get is a flower?” Gwaine said, almost sympathetic. “Charming.”

Arthur shrugged, glancing down at the flower in his buttonhole to check it wasn’t wilting. He didn’t think he had to worry much- spirit flowers were probably a lot more durable than his unfortunate bouquet from his classmates. Sure, maybe some gold would have been nice, but the spirit wouldn’t have given him the flower if it wasn’t important, right? Maybe it was magical. Maybe it could even help his father. He could go back to the pig pens, maybe if he fed it to his father it could turn him back.

“It suits you, if it’s any consolation,” Gwen smiled, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah- goes with those beautiful blonde locks o’ yours,” Gwaine chuckled, receiving a good-natured punch on the shoulder from Gwen.

“Cheers,” Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes. Gwaine could be annoying, but his heart was in the right place.

“And at least Morgana gave you the day off,” Gwen said, making a valiant attempt not to sound jealous. “That’s more than she’s ever given me.”

Arthur smiled at her, but he wasn’t all that enthusiastic. Sure, a day without the relentless manual labour would be great, but he had no idea what else he would do with the free time. He didn’t even have his Gameboy or a book, and he hated being at a loose end. Maybe he’d try and sneak out to see his father, or try and find Lin- he must be back from his errands for Morgana by now, surely?

“Well, enjoy your day off, kid,” Gwaine said, mussing his hair on the way out. “Try not to mess up the room too much while we’re gone, eh?”

“Get some sleep,” Gwen said kindly, patting his back as she and Gwaine slipped out the door to another day on the job.

Arthur sighed, climbing into his hammock and flopping back. With the events of the last few days buzzing in his skull like bees, he’d be amazed if he could muster so much as a catnap.

It had been a day since the incident with the Lady of the Lake, and life at Camelot appeared to be back to normal- although no one had seen Morgana’s goblin messenger around for a while, but most assumed he’d passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere. He’d be back when his gold reserves ran low.

Also, there was the shadow.

He kept seeing it around, just out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes he felt like it was trying to talk to him, but its voice kept breaking and fading like it was talking through a radio with no signal. All he knew for sure was that it looked a little bigger every time he saw it, and he could have sworn its shape was gradually changing.

He told himself that it probably meant him no harm- perhaps all it was attempting to do was thank him for opening the door. But something about the shape unnerved him, like it didn’t quite belong in this place. But that was a little hypocritical coming from him, so he tried to smile politely whenever the shape approached him.

He wondered if Lin would know where it came from, or what it wanted.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe if he lay perfectly still long enough he could force himself to sleep the day away.

That was when he heard the flapping.

He cracked one eye open, frowning. Birds flew by the window in their corridor a lot, but most of them were too small and quiet to hear through the door. And this didn’t sound like just one thing- if he listened closely he could hear the rustle of smaller wings alongside the big ones.

He clambered out of the hammock and ran for the door, yanking it open and stumbling into the corridor. He skidded the final few yards to the window and gaped at the scene that greeted him.

A flock of white birds emitted papery rustles and shrill screeches, their tiny white bodies dotted with crimson stains. They moved as one, swarming around something much bigger than themselves and still somehow getting the upper hand.

Then the cloud parted slightly, and he gasped as he saw the target of their assault.

The dragon bellowed in pain and rage, charcoal grey head thrown back and feathery wings beating frantically to keep its colossal body aloft. It clawed and bit at its assailants but for every bird that fell two more took its place. One of them slashed it across the face, leaving a fine slash over its brow, and Arthur realised with a sickening jolt that the red dots decorating their bodies were the big dragon’s blood. He also realised that the birds were not in fact real birds but were made of crisp white paper, tearing and crumpling at the claws of their foe.

It wasn’t hard to see that the grey dragon was losing the fight, its wingbeats growing more erratic as tiredness overtook it. It was only as it started swaying closer to the castle that Arthur took initiative and ducked away from the window.

It smashed through the stone wall like it was no thicker than its paper assailants. It skidded across the stone, leaving thick trails of blood and broken feathers in its wake, a distressed whip of its tail nearly knocked Arthur clean off his feet.

Arthur panicked, glancing down the hall and wondering if he could make it away before the dragon or its attackers saw him. He’d have to tell Morgana about this, surely? If this dragon was an enemy she’d want to know it had breached the citadel.

He was just bracing himself to make a run for it when the dragon turned its great head to face him.

Arthur gasped, taking in the creature fully for the first time. It was slim, lean, nowhere near as enormous as he’d first thought, and its body was an odd patchwork of scales and feathers like it was caught somewhere between bird and reptile.

But it was the eyes that caught his attention. Huge and open, staring right through him like it could see inside him, widening as if they recognised what they saw. And they were blue. Unbelievably blue. He’d only seen blue eyes like that once before.

“Lin?” he asked softly, taking a cautious step forward. “Lin, is that you?”

For a second the dragon appeared to respond to his voice, head tilting and ears twitching.

But then its shoulders shook, its scales rattled in warning, and whatever emotion Arthur had thought he’d seen in its eyes disappeared.

The creature that used to be Lin snarled at him, blood dripping from the cuts that decorated his body and spraying from his mouth, splattering Arthur’s shirt and arms. He shook the stone dust from his wings and took off, knocking away another chunk of wall as he went. And where he went, the paper birds followed.

Arthur staggered forward and leaned through the hole Lin had left behind, looking up to confirm his suspicions. Lin was heading up, towards the top of the castle, which could only mean one thing. He was going to Morgana’s office.

Arthur turned and sprinted for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Lin couldn’t survive long bleeding like that, magic or not. He had to help.

He was so busy racing up the stairs that he didn’t notice one little paper bird flatten itself to his back, hitching a lift.

* * *

 

Even though he was frantic with worry for Lin, Arthur at least had the presence of mind to knock before barrelling into Morgana’s office- she didn’t take kindly to people dropping in unannounced. Fortunately the witch did not seem to be present at the moment, probably out sweet-talking wealthy customers.

He charged into the room so fast he almost slipped on the blood.

“Lin…” he breathed, eyes widening in horror.

The dragon lay across the floor, seeming so much smaller in the cavernous stone vault than he had in the sky. Blood trickled steadily from the multitude of gashes in his hide, and though he seemed to have given the paper birds the slip Arthur got the horrible feeling that it was already too late. From this distance he couldn’t even tell if his friend was still breathing.

He lurched forward to help, but that was when he heard the familiar clack of heels on stone floors. Morgana was coming back. He thought about making a run for the door, but realised there was no way he’d be able to slip out into the corridor without being seen. He was trapped.

He whipped his head round, frantically searching for somewhere to hide. He couldn’t risk under the desk- if she sat down he’d be found immediately. She had no cupboards or closets, no boxes or trunks large enough to hide him, and even the shadowy corners were inadequate given the bright sunlight streaming through the high windows.

That was when he saw the trapdoor.

He bit his lip, glancing between the mysterious compartment and the door, wondering whether he’d rather face the mysterious creature residing beneath the floor or the cold wrath of Lady Morgana. To be honest, it was a no-brainer.

He made it to the trapdoor in three long strides, glancing guiltily over his shoulder at Lin’s unconscious form as he fumbled with the latch. He silently promised his friend he’d come back before allowing himself to be swallowed by the dark beneath the stone floors, the trapdoor swinging shut behind him.

* * *

 

“Who let that awful creature into my castle?” Morgana barked, the door swinging open at a snap of her fingers.

“I’m afraid we don’t know, my Lady,” Morgause said, glowering at Agravaine where he fidgeted uncomfortably on Morgana’s other flank. “Seems someone dropped the ball on that one.”

“I’ve never seen it before, I swear!” he pleaded. “I don’t know how it got in!”

“I don’t care how it got in, get it out!” she snapped, shooting a look over at the bleeding dragon on her chamber floor and tutting distastefully at the mess. “I’ll deal with that later,” she muttered, reaching her desk and grabbing the ingredients she needed. “We’ll have to ward it away from our guests for now- the Lady Vivian is kicking up quite a fuss, and I don’t trust that weaselly little warlock she carries around with her. Are there any floors it hasn’t infiltrated yet?”

“Just your floor and the one below,” Morgause said grimly.

“Then move our guests there,” Morgana said, nimbly assembling an array of wards against the sinister creature in their midst. “Hang these in the staircases and doorways, make sure no one leaves until this is sorted out. Dismissed.”

Morgause nodded sharply and took the tray being offered to her, striding out without a second glance. After a moment’s hesitation, Agravaine followed.

Morgana waited until the door swung shut before slamming her elegant fist on the desk with a curse- it didn’t do to lose one’s decorum in front of the help. The last thing she needed on top of everything else was a revolt.

The castle was in chaos- a shadowy figure was slowly making its way through the staff, luring them in with the illusion of riches and then swallowing them whole. At the first reported sighting it had been about the size of a man, although recent reports claimed it to be closer to a bear. It was eating and growing, and her employees were just stupid and greedy enough to deliver themselves right into its clutches. It wouldn’t be long before it started feasting on her guests, and then where would they be? She’d be lucky if she ever got a customer again.

She spun on her stiletto heel and strode over to the crumpled form bleeding all over her flagstones. She crouched at the dragon’s side, sweeping her expensive skirts away from the blood. She prodded him in the side with one manicured fingernail.

“I take it your mission wasn’t a success, then?” she said dryly, shaking her head. “Honestly, can’t get the staff these days. I hope there’s a good reason you’ve made such a mess of my office? I hear the east wall’s missing a sizeable chunk, as well.”

Lin didn’t answer, too busy wheezing and shaking to respond. She tutted, straightening up.

“Pity,” she said unsympathetically, turning towards the door. “You were a good assistant. But unfortunately you can’t stay here- it’s obvious to me that that blasted creature has cast a spell on you and he’s ever so good at tracking his own spells. I’m afraid you’re a liability,” she raised her hand and clicked her slender fingers, the noise echoing across the empty chamber.

The stones in the centre of the floor began to shift and slide away, revealing a chute plunging deep into the depths of the castle. Invisible fingers clutched at Lin’s scales and feathers, dragging his prone body slowly towards the chasm.

Morgana spared him one last glance over her shoulder before stalking away to take care of business elsewhere. “Your services will no longer be required.”

* * *

 

Arthur waited with bated breath beneath the closed trapdoor, listening in part to the muffled sounds of voices over his head and the eerie silence in the darkened cell. So far no noises from whatever creature resided beneath the trapdoor, and he hoped he wouldn’t be stuck long enough for that to change.

He was listening so intently to the sound of Morgana’s fading footsteps click-clacking over his head that he didn’t hear the lightest leathery rustle at his back.

By the time he felt the claws around his wrist it was too late.

He stifled a scream, all too aware that Morgana was still pacing around upstairs, and spun round to face the creature, willing his eyes to adjust to the gloom.

Two enormous blue-grey eyes gleamed in the muted light from the sides of the trapdoor, set deeply into a rugged face like chiselled marble. He caught a gleam of teeth and a rustle of wings, a defensive rattle of scales.

“Are you a poacher?”

The voice was unexpected in that it was light and almost childlike, hardly the sort of noise one expected to hear from a vicious monster imprisoned in a dark chamber. Arthur frowned, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A poacher,” the voice said again, and he thought he could see its great head tilt slightly sideways. “Mother says the poachers and hunters outside will hurt me again. Are you a poacher?”

“No,” Arthur said, wide-eyed. “No, I’m not a poacher, I work for Morgana- can you please let go of me?”

“You shouldn’t go outside,” the voice said, grip tightening on his forearm. “There are poachers and hunters and bad things outside. You should stay here and play with me.”

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Arthur said, trying to pry his arm out of the creature’s vice-like grip. “My friend’s hurt, I have to help- can you please let me go?”

The eyes narrowed, the grip tightened. “Stay and play with me or I’ll cry. Mother will hurt you if you make me cry.”

Arthur swallowed past the tightness in his throat, his stomach dipping with dread at the thought of Morgana or her ‘child’ having their way with him. “Please don’t cry- I’ll play with you later, I promise!”

“Now!” the snarl ripped out from the beast’s enormous jaws, spittle spraying across Arthur’s face. However big or strong this creature was it was clearly just a child, and one used to getting its own way. A child like that with the strength of a beast… He had to get out of there.

He heard the click of Morgana’s heels recede, and eventually heard the slam of the great doors. It was now or never. He squirmed in the creature’s grip, reaching up to wipe specks of saliva from his cheeks, and then he remembered what else he was covered with. He could only hope this creature was as afraid of blood as it was of hunters- it was only a child, after all.

He brandished his other arm in the monster’s face, thrusting the smatterings of Lin’s dried blood into the feeble light from the trapdoor. “Don’t touch me!” he yelled, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. “Blood!”

Obviously his hunch was right. The grip on his arm abruptly released, and a strangled cry echoed through the dark chamber. He didn’t wait around to see what would happen next.

He sprang back at the trapdoor, shoving it open and scrambling out as quickly as his shaking limbs could manage. He slammed it shut behind him, although he doubted that flimsy wooden door would prove much of an obstacle if the creature decided to follow him. He’d just have to be long gone before that happened.

“Lin!” he cried, watching horror-struck as the dragon’s unconscious body was hauled by invisible forces to the new chasm in the floor. Obviously Morgana had no desire to keep him around.

Arthur sprang across and wrapped his arms around Lin’s scaly torso, but his body was too slippery with blood to gain purchase, and Arthur was too weak to make a blind bit of difference. He could do nothing but hold on as they were both pulled closer and closer to the edge. He couldn’t even bring himself to get up and run, not if it meant leaving Lin like this. He wouldn’t leave him alone to die.

“Lin, wake up,” he pleaded, voice breaking around a sob. “ _Lin!”_

The trapdoor burst open, broken wood flying across the room, and Morgana’s creature emerged.

It was another dragon, but quite unlike Lin. Its hunched body was covered in a sheen of snake-like white scales, its sunken eyes gazed flatly out from a drawn face. It seemed wrong somehow- almost malformed. Its gaze locked on Arthur, and it lurched forward on unsteady limbs.

“I’m not scared of blood,” it sneered stubbornly, jaw set in determination. “Play with me or I’ll tell Morgana.”

“I can’t!” Arthur yelled, clinging tighter to Lin’s unresponsive body. “Please, my friend’s dying!”

“ _I’m telling!”_ the sickly creature screeched, leathery wings stirring up a storm, sending papers and quills flying from Morgana’s desk in a flurry.

Arthur bit his lip and buried his face in Lin’s bloody shoulder, closing his eyes against the chaos. Even if he let go of his friend now, nothing but Morgana and her enraged dragon awaited him. He supposed at least this way he wouldn’t die alone. He tried to tune out the horrendous noises of Morgana’s beast, focusing only on the Lin’s laboured breaths as his scaly chest rose and fell.

“Honestly, what a ruckus.”

Arthur’s eyes snapped open. That wasn’t Lin’s voice, or Morgana’s, or her dragon’s. It was a new voice, old and gravelly, echoing powerfully through the chamber. Even the raging white dragon was given pause by the unexpected sound. But when Arthur looked around he could see no one else in the room.

That was when he heard a rustle by his ear.

The battered paper bird hopped into the air- it must have been hiding somewhere, maybe in his waistcoat. Arthur blinked at it, confused- did paper birds usually talk? That being said, up close it didn’t even look like a bird- it was much more similar in shape to Lin or even Morgana’s spoilt pet. Had all Lin’s attackers been little dragons?

The paper stretched and morphed into a different figure, pristine white turning to sandy yellow. The papery noises became the rustle of fabric as the figure’s robes appeared, sweeping from its angular shoulders to the floor. It stretched up and up, looming over Arthur at about seven feet tall and finally coming to a halt, its features finally coming into focus. A face as craggy as the voice took form, yellowed skin like a smoker. The old man rippled and flickered, as though obscured behind some kind of curtain. He seemed to notice as much, tutting in disappointment.

“Just a shade, I see,” he said gruffly, eyeing his shimmering form with distaste. “I see that witch’s defensive wards are still in place.”

The white dragon rattled its scales nervously, wings getting ready to kick up another storm. “I’m calling mother!” it cried, claws scraping the ground in distress.

Yellow eyes stared disapprovingly at the dumbstruck white dragon with something between sadness and irritation. “What a spoiled brat she raised you to be. Such a pity.”

The figure raised a bony arm, revealed knobbly old fingers tipped with talon-like nails, and made a sweeping gesture towards the panicking beast.

Arthur watched in amazement as the enormous creature began to collapse in on itself, shrinking smaller and smaller, roars turning to whimpers and then finally to squeaks.

Where once stood a horrific monster of fire and magic, now hunched a tiny little white bat. It squeaked and fluttered and scratched at the stone, enormous ears frantically swivelling.

The yellowish figure chuckled throatily, lowering his hand once again. “Much better. Now do be quiet a moment, dear nephew- I have business to take care of,” he turned his gaze on Arthur, eyes blazing like the sun. “Now, boy- hand him over.”

“What?” Arthur said, eyes widening as he glanced down at Lin’s bleeding form. “What do you want with him?”

“What’s rightfully mine,” the old man said menacingly, advancing slowly on them. “This thief stole something very important from me- a sword of great power and value. I want it back.”

“No, you’ve got it wrong,” Arthur insisted, shaking his head. “Lin’s not a thief!” he didn’t know why he was so desperate to jump to the defence of this boy he barely knew, but somehow defending him felt as natural as breathing. “He wouldn’t steal from anyone!”

“Oh, my dear boy, so naïve,” the man chuckled, another sweep of his hand bringing their slow advance to the chasm to a halt. “He works for Morgana- no one with any morals signs themselves into the service of that witch. It’s his job to do her dirty work, no questions asked.”

“Then blame Morgana!” Arthur said, glancing at the little bat as it hopped onto his shoulder and hid from the old man’s gaze beneath his waistcoat. “It’s not his fault!”

“I’m afraid I cannot ignore this kind of insult,” the man said coldly. “He is as guilty as his mistress, and he will die for his crimes.”

Cold panic gripped Arthur, he squeezed Lin’s still body like a lifeline. _“NO!”_

Just then, as if responding to Arthur’s distress, Lin thrashed and roared, blood spattering from his mouth and wounds, slick body twisting in pain and anger. Arthur held on tight, gripping him like he would a difficult horse, arms taut with exertion.

“Lin!” he screamed, burying his face in the grey dragon’s downy neck. “Please get up, he’s going to kill you- _move!”_

It seemed to be working. Lin scrambled shakily to his feet, claws scratching the stone, broken wing dragging through the pool of blood at his feet. He limped, towing Arthur with him, ever closer to the cavernous hole in the ground.

“Lin?” Arthur said, eyes wide as he saw where he was taking them. _“Lin, no!”_

But it was too late.

Lin took his first step into the void, and together they plummeted into the depths of Camelot.

* * *

 

Time seemed to simultaneously slow down and speed up as they fell through the darkness. Clinging to Lin for dear life, air racing past his ears, Arthur felt strangely weightless. If it weren’t for the metallic smell of blood in the air and the frantic squeaking of the bat under his waistcoat, it might’ve been quite calming.

“Lin!” he cried again, tugging ineffectually on the limp dragon’s ear. “Lin, you have to fly- we’ll crash!”

He had no idea if Lin had heard him- it seemed as if he’d fallen unconscious again the moment they tipped over the edge. At least they weren’t being followed so far, but that wouldn’t help them if they got splattered on the ground wherever this chute bottomed out.

But after a few more hoarse cries the dragon finally responded, blue eyes blinking slowly open. He flapped his wings, grunting in pain as he forced the damaged one into action. He wasn’t strong enough to take them back up, but he seemed to have other plans.

It was so dark that Arthur didn’t realise the chute branched off until Lin brought them right up close to a hole in the wall. He had just enough residual strength to tip them towards it, and their descent became less steep as they continued to tumble down. Arthur could only assume Lin knew what he was doing and that this way was in fact better than wherever the main chute would have taken them, but it was hard to keep that in mind when they were both being bumped and bruised in the narrow space.

Arthur had his eyes screwed shut so tightly he almost didn’t realise that the darkness was lifting. He looked down and saw a glowing circle ahead, flickering like firelight. Next he felt the heat prickling on his skin, intensifying with every foot they fell. Maybe Lin had taken the wrong turning, maybe there was nothing below them but fire and they’d be incinerated on contact. He kicked out against the side of the chute, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference, and cursing his bad luck that he should come all this way only to wind up as kindling.

The light was upon them, time was up. Arthur closed his eyes and held tightly to Lin, bracing himself for the inevitable.

“What in the-?!”

They smacked into the ground, and though Lin’s armoured torso absorbed most of the impact Arthur still felt his shoulder jar and his head spin. He groaned, finally loosening his grip on the dragon long enough to slide limply to the floor. At least it didn’t seem to be made of fire.

“Penn?”

He heard the voice again and tiredly raised his head, meeting the gobsmacked gaze of Gaius the boiler man. “Good lord, boy, what happened to you? And what the devil is Master Lin doing covered in blood on my floor?”

“Help him,” Arthur rasped, staggering to his feet and looking down on Lin’s still unconscious form.

Gaius hobbled to the dragon’s side, robes trailing in the rapidly spreading pool of blood as he crouched down to inspect his wounds. He lifted his eyelids, checked his breathing, but his face fell with every test.

“Is he…” Arthur choked, dropping to his knees at Lin’s side, hand stretched out as if to touch him. “Is he dying?”

Gaius nodded grimly. “I’m afraid so. It would seem he’s been poisoned- something is keeping him from healing himself, probably keeping him asleep as well. I fear he hasn’t long left.”

“Poison…” Arthur thought, unable to voice the word through his shock. This couldn’t be happening. Lin was his friend. Maybe the only one he had. Maybe even more than- no, just a friend. But definitely his best friend, at least in this place. He couldn’t just _die._ There had to be something he could do, some kind of charm or spell or antidote…

“Of course!” he exclaimed, smacking his forehead. “I’m such an _idiot!_ Gaius, open his mouth!”

Gaius looked up at him in bewilderment, but did as he was told as Arthur reached up and plucked the crumpled yet intact flower from his buttonhole. Arthur dropped to his knees at his side, picking a few petals from the flower and reaching towards Lin’s enormous jaws.

“It’s okay, Lin,” he said as steadily as he could, trembling hand slipping between rows of vicious teeth. “Just eat this, it’s from the Lady of the Lake- it’ll help you, I’m sure of it…”

“Gifts from the Lady…?” Gaius murmured, impressed, eyeing the remains of the yellow flower in Arthur’s free hand.

“Just one bite,” Arthur grunted, realising grimly that Lin was in no fit state to do any of the work himself. He reached back, cringing as his wrist brushed the surface of the dragon’s rough tongue, closed fist coming to rest as far back in the cavernous mouth as he could reach. He dropped the petals as close to his throat as he could manage and withdrew his hand, using it to press Lin’s jaws closed.  “Good- now swallow!”

Lin did as he was told- unfortunately, it was followed by a roar so loud it practically shook the very foundations of the castle. He thrashed and writhed, blue eyes wide and unseeing, and it was all Arthur could do to stop himself being thrown across the room.

Lin’s jaws snapped wide open in a cough, and something launched from his mouth. It was at least two feet long, wrapped in bile-slicked cloth, and it hit the stone floor with a hollow clang. Arthur didn’t have time to wonder how Lin had managed to consume such a thing before something much smaller followed. The small black beetle clacked as it hit the ground, wobbling round on its back for a moment before flipping itself upright and scurrying away.

“Don’t just sit there, lad,” Gaius exclaimed, waving his arms. “Who knows what trouble that thing will cause if you let it get away!”

“Oh!” Arthur yelped, jumping to his feet and chasing the retreating creature. It took a few minutes of very undignified stomping and scuffling, but finally the sole of his boot crunched the critter into the ground.

“That was a close one,” Gaius muttered. “I can’t imagine Morgana would have been happy if we’d let that thing loose.”

“What _was_ that?” Arthur moans, staring forlornly at the mess on his shoe.

“An Elanthia Beetle,” Gaius said, grimacing at the crushed legs and shell on his floor. “I’ve never seen one in the flesh, but I’ve heard a great many terrible things- they’re creatures of dark magic. Correctly enchanted, they can enter and devour a person’s brain.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped. “Lin,” he gasped, snapping his gaze back to his friend.

Lin’s body was shrinking, the colour leeching from his grey scales until pale skin and blue cloth remained. Feathers receded, darkening into a familiar head of jet black hair falling over closed eyes. Within moments the dragon was gone, and only the small, broken body of Lin remained.

Arthur dropped to his knees at his side, frantically checking him for a pulse and breathing a sigh of relief when he felt weak breaths on the back of his hand. Not dead, but still not good.

He looked up at Gaius imploringly, hand anxiously running through Lin’s hair. “Will he be alright?”

“It’s too early to tell,” Gaius said, ringing a bell on his desk and signalling to the confused soot sprites at their feet to get back to work. “But Lin has always possessed quite remarkable powers for a wizard of his age, including considerable skill in the field of magical healing. I imagine he’s attempting to repair himself even as we speak. But those beetles are powerful, horrible things- it may already be too late.”

Arthur was shaking his head before he’d even finished. “No. No, there has to be something we can do,” an idea occurred to him, and it probably wasn’t smart but it was the best he had. “What if I found the person who enchanted the beetle? That wizard, could he help Lin?”

Gaius nodded slowly. “It’s possible, although it really depends on the wizard- not all magical folk are kind, and many are stubborn, there’s a good chance that even if you could contact this wizard he wouldn’t agree. Did you get his name?”

Arthur shook his head, reaching up to absentmindedly stroke the head of the distressed dragon-turned-bat perched on his shoulder. “He was tall, and old. His skin was sort of yellowish, he reminded me of this aunt I had who used to smoke like a chimney. He had a beard?”

Gaius didn’t look happy with this description. “Well this is worse than I thought. It would seem Master Lin has managed to run afoul of Kilgharrah.”

“Kilgharrah?”

“A powerful warlock, mostly the stuff of legends, although in this land truth and myth often go hand in hand,” Gaius rummaged around under his desk for a blanket and pillow, and Arthur realised that the old man must work these forges twenty-four-seven. “Some say he’s a dragon wearing a human skin, and from what I’ve heard of him I’ve half a mind to believe them. He is wise, and possibly the oldest being currently alive, but he is also ruthless. He deems only a select few worthy of his time, and has little patience for others. If you’re not careful he’ll have the air from your lungs with a flick of his wrist.”

Arthur stared down at Lin, watched him draw rasping breath through cracked lips, watched cold sweat breaking out on his brow. He made a decision.

“Where can I find him?”

* * *

 

“Gaius!” Gwen yelled, feet pounding on the stairs as she took them two at a time. “Gaius, have you see- Penn? Oh my goodness, what _happened?_ I went to your room and there was a hole in the wall and _blood_ and… why is Master Lin lying on the floor?”

Penn looked up at her with tired eyes and a grimace. “Long story. Gaius can fill you in, I’ve got to go somewhere.”

“You can’t,” Gwen said, curls flying as she shook her head. “The Lady Morgana has been tearing the place apart looking for you, says one of the customers is asking for you and wreaking havoc. You didn’t bring anyone here, did you?”

“What? No!” Penn exclaimed.

“You can’t just leave- it’s _eating_ people,” Gwen said, wringing her hands fretfully. “It’s eaten thirteen so far, and it doesn’t stop, it just keeps _growing._ It keeps trying to speak, but it’s like it can’t quite form the words, it’d be pitiful if it weren’t so… well, horrifying.”

“But what would it want with me?” Penn asked, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, but your name seems to be the only one it can say,” she said, crouching down beside him and glancing at Lin. “Penn… what is all this? What’s going on?”

He shook his head again, eyes wide. He looked so young, so small and scared. It made Gwen’s heart ache. She reached out and placed a hand on his back, rubbing it in soothing circles as he recounted the entire story. The dragon, the fight, Kilgharrah’s intervention. Gwen found it hard to imagine that the tiny white bat clinging to Penn’s waistcoat was in fact the enormous, hideously deformed creature he’d described, but she didn’t voice her doubts. She’d seen some impossible things over the last few days, what was one more to add to the list?

“What’re you going to do?” she asked gently as he finished his story, his hand drifting down to run through Lin’s hair. Whether it was for Lin’s benefit or his own, well, that was debateable.

“I need to find him,” Penn said firmly, jaw set. “Kilgharrah. I have to find him, apologise on Lin’s behalf, return what he stole and get him to break the spell. It might be Lin’s only chance.”

“What about…?” She trailed off, nodding sharply upwards towards the bathhouse, and the bloodthirsty customer that awaited there.

“It can’t just be left to tear the place apart,” Penn said, standing up on shaky legs. “Innocent people could die. I suppose I’ll have to lure it away- shouldn’t be difficult, if it’s me it wants.”

Gwen’s hand slid down his arm as he stood, and she gripped his wrist. “You’ll do no such thing- it’s too dangerous!”

He looked down at her, blue eyes filled to the brim with fear and resolve, the kind that not even the blood and dirt on his face could temper. “I have to try. Will you help me or not?”

She bit her lip, mind already reeling with all the different ways this could go wrong, but she nodded. She had vague memories of another person gazing at her with that look in their eyes, and she knew how futile it was to fight the tide.

“What can I do?”

Gaius shuffled forward, pressing something into Penn’s hand. The boy looked down at the small engraved goat’s horn curiously as Gaius explained.

“I’ve been saving it for quite some time, but I believe your needs are greater than mine,” Gaius said, patting Penn’s shoulder.

“What’s it do?” Penn asked.

“Calls the boat,” Gaius said quietly. “There are some who call it the Ghost Ship. Very few have ever seen it- it only appears to those with the means to call. I’ve heard countless stories. Some say it appeared to them as a vast galleon, or a warship. I remember one particular story about it appearing as a rather small dinghy. The only way out of this city is by water, and as none of Morgana’s spirit customers are likely to offer passage to a human, I imagine it’s your best chance. Kilgharrah moves around a lot, but the last I heard he was skulking around on the Isle of the Blessed. You would do well to go there in your search.”

“Thank you,” Penn said sincerely, tucking the horn into his pocket. “I’ll return the favour one day, I promise,” he turned to Gwen, nodding towards the stairs. “Will you help me get rid of… _it?_ ”

“I’ll certainly try,” she said, standing up and looking down at Lin once more. “But we’d better hurry- I’m not sure how long he has…”

Penn nodded, taking a step towards Lin and crouching down at his side. He ran a hand through his matted hair, rested the other briefly on his chest over his feebly beating heart. He stared down at his face as if willing him to wake up, fingers bunching slightly in the fabric of Lin’s shirt.

Gwen frowned, glancing at Gaius. “What’s going on there?” she whispered.

Gaius chuckled, giving her shoulder a squeeze before turning to head back to his station by the furnace. “Something you ought to remember,” he said in low tones, smiling at the blond boy as he straightened up with one last lingering look on his unconscious friend. “It’s called love.”

* * *

 

“Hey!”

The creature turned around, and Arthur gulped. It was immense, dark and formless, stretching and bulging in all the wrong directions. Occasionally Arthur saw an arm or a face flicker out at the edges, and it was all he could do not to run away screaming knowing that those were most certainly the features of the people it had devoured.

“Penn…” the creature gurgled, in several voices at once, at least three of which Arthur recognised.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said as steadily as he could, planting his feet.

One of the creature’s inky limbs stretched out, so close that Arthur could feel the chill it emitted against his skin, and its shapeless claw opened. Arthur blinked at the sight of the herbal soak token he was presented with, before realisation struck.

“You!” he exclaimed, eyes widening in recognition. The shadow had changed quite markedly since the night he’d let it in out of the rain.

The shadow gurgled once more, the token falling through its insubstantial flesh and clattering to the hard stone floor. Arthur stared at its rippling form blankly, shaking his head.

“Why are you looking for me?” he asked. “What do you need me for?”

“Hu…” the shadow rasped, numerous voices fighting to be understood. “Human…”

“What do you need?” Arthur repeated, standing his ground even as the dark shape drew closer and his knees began to shake.

He and the creature drew level, and for a moment he thought he could feel its gaze right on him

“Help… Me…” it whispered.

Arthur stared back at the horrific mass, and felt his fear leave him. That voice, those words, this horrifying half-life. All he could feel for the creature was pity.

He reached up, thumbing the remains of the flower in his pocket. He’d thought about saving it for his father, it had helped Lin so maybe it could break his spell. Any gift from a lake spirit had to have quite some power, after all.

But then again, he hadn’t been raised to ignore people in need.

He pulled the squashed remains from his pocket, grimacing. Uther would have to wait a bit.

“Here,” he said, extending his arm, palm open, presenting the bloom to the shadow. “Eat. It’ll help.”

He turned his hand, letting the flower fall. Before it could hit the ground a black tendril whipped out, quick as lightning, snatching it from the air and dragging it back into the dark maelstrom of the creature’s form.

Suddenly the swirling mass went still, its rasping breaths fell silent. Arthur panicked for a moment, wondering if perhaps whatever that flower was it was poisonous to the creature. But the moment of calm didn’t last long, and soon the shadow was writhing and screaming, droplets of black bile spraying from the place he estimated its mouth to be.

It didn’t seem able to form words, but Arthur could pretty much tell it wasn’t happy. He reckoned it was safe to assume he’d got its full, undivided attention. He took the advantage of his temporary head start and sprinted down the hall, feeling the ominous chill of the creature on his back as it pursued him.

* * *

 

Gwen was getting more anxious by the second, and the nervous whinnying of the horse in her grip did nothing to calm her. She patted its side and made quiet shushing noises, moving her hand over to once again check the saddlebags. Penn’s human clothes, Kilgharrah’s sword (and she definitely didn’t want to think about how dragon Lin must have gone about swallowing that whole), everything present and correct. The knowledge was a lot less soothing than she’d hoped.

The sun was setting over Camelot, and the only lights on in the citadel were those on the upper floors where the survivors were sequestered. Occasionally she saw a flicker of something inky black in one of the empty windows, and she could only assume that Penn’s plan was working and he was drawing the creature away. She only hoped he could outrun it long enough to make his escape.

She waited until she saw him emerge at the top of the stairs to vault onto the horse’s back, gripping the reins in one hand and extending the other.

Penn leapt down the stairs three at a time, halfway down by the time the creature emerged from the castle behind him. It was smaller now than when she last saw it, and she realised why a moment later when it paused and made a horrific retching noise, and heaved the struggling body of one of the people it had devoured onto the steps.

“Oh, God,” she winced, grabbing a hold of Penn’s hand and hoisting him up onto the horse. “What did you _do?_ ”

“Not sure,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly round her waist and glancing behind him at the rapidly approaching form. “Improvising. Let’s go, before it catches up!”

“Right,” she said through gritted teeth, urging the horse on with a swift kick.

They tore away, leaving the main plaza behind as the horse galloped down the winding streets of the town, hooves clattering rhythmically on the cobblestones. Any spirits milling about that didn’t leap aside for them did so when it became clear what was pursuing them. The shadow was shrinking in size every few metres or so, occasionally pausing in its chase to heave another struggling victim onto the ground. Fortunately the people seemed unharmed- dazed and filthy, but unharmed.

Gwen yanked on the reins, the horse rearing to a halt just before the gate to the city and the endless lake beyond. They both hurriedly dismounted, Penn running forward to the water’s edge and blowing the horn. It shattered in his hands as soon as the sound rang out, shards falling to the water and dissolving.

After a few seconds that felt like an infinity, a small boat emerged from the fog, drifting steadily to the shore. As far as Gwen could tell it was empty, with no oars and no one steering.

The rowboat bumped into the shore lightly, wood rattling against the threshold as Penn leapt in. He turned to Gwen, eyes wide, but she shook her head.

“You go,” she said, mounting the horse once more and throwing him the saddlebag. “I have to go back, make sure everyone’s all right.”

Penn looked conflicted about leaving her, but nodded. “Look after Lin,” he said grimly, knuckles rapping the side of the boat. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You’d better be,” she said, forcing a smile and hoping it was even remotely reassuring.

The boat broke away from the gateway and began it’s slow, steady cut across the lake. Arthur kept watching her until the fog swallowed him up, trepidation warring with determination on his face.

Gwen turned the horse around, meaning to take another route back to avoid the shadow, but found it was unnecessary as the creature appeared to have no interest in her whatsoever. When it rounded the corner it slouched right past her, heaving up what must have been the last remaining victim onto the stone before stepping into the water.

“Hey!” she shouted after it, not expecting a response. “You touch a _hair_ on that boy’s head, and I’ll come after you! You hear me?”

The creature ignored her, slipping and sliding over the water like oil in pursuit of the boat. Gwen only hoped Penn would reach his destination before it could catch up.

“Ugh…” the recently discharged goblin groaned, sitting up and glaring, long ears twitching irritably. “What the bloody Hell was _that?”_

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Gwen muttered, reaching down and offering her complaining co-worker a hand. “Come on, let’s get you back. We’ve got a lot of mess to clear up.”

* * *

 

_“How long have you known him?” Arthur asked, nodding down to where Lin lay sleeping on the ground, soot sprites milling curiously around him._

_“About five years, give or take,” Gaius said, dabbing at one of his cuts with a rag. “Although it’s hard to tell- time moves rather differently here than it does in the mortal world, my boy. But I’d never forget the day he arrived here- such talent for such a small lad, he dazzled Morgana within minutes. I asked him, that day, why he would come here. Someone with his talents could go anywhere, do anything, a job as an_ assistant _\- even to one as powerful and respected as Lady Morgana- seemed unbecoming. He told me that this was where he needed to be. That it was his ‘destiny’. Superstitious nonsense, of course, but the boy seemed rather adamant that this was where he belonged, so I didn’t fight him. Now I’m rather wishing I had- I should have foreseen that no amount of raw talent would stop Morgana disposing of him should he become an inconvenience.”_

_“Did he ever say why he belonged here?” Arthur asked, bewildered._

_“He told me he was waiting,” Gaius said quietly. “For what, he never said.”_

His earlier exchange with Gaius was still rolling through his head, nagging at his subconscious. Granted, he hadn’t known Lin for long, but he hadn’t seemed like the kind to wax lyrical about destiny or anything quite so vague- even the actual spirits in Camelot seemed rather dubious about the concept of fate. He’d have to ask him about it when he got better. _If_ he got better.

He shook his head. That kind of thinking wasn’t exactly helpful. But with nothing but endless water and fog surrounding the little boat there really wasn’t much to do besides think. Well, that and try to talk the little bat on his shoulder down from its near constant panic attack. He’d barely been able to budge it when he’d been changing into his old clothes, but he didn’t let that slow him down- if he was going to be facing one of the most powerful warlocks in the world, he was going to do it in his own clothes.

Something else caught his eye, and he groaned. That oily black ripple on the water looked familiar. But he noticed it seemed to be flitting rather harmlessly around the sides of his boat and making no attempt to climb aboard or capsize him, so he decided to give it the benefit of the doubt for now. Maybe it was just the castle making it angry.

“Come with me if you want,” he muttered, hugging his knees to his chest. “Just don’t try to eat me, okay?”

The shadow offered no response.

Eventually another shape rose out of the fog. Dark and crooked, rising like a tombstone from the endless expanse of dark water. It was exactly the kind of place he could picture Kilgharrah lurking.

“Here goes nothing…”

* * *

 

The island wasn’t any less spooky up close. In fact, the shadow still lurking at his shoulder was practically fluffy by comparison.

They walked through the ruins of what must have once been some kind of castle or cathedral, although little remained but a ragged skeleton. Arthur was really starting to wish they could have arrived earlier, before the sun went down- picking his way through treacherous (and probably haunted) ruins in the middle of the night was hardly top of his bucket list. At least the shape hovering by his side no longer seemed to be radiating hostility, in fact having any sort of company was quite a reassurance at this point. He was even oddly grateful for the tiny bat still clinging to his shoulder, occasionally making fretful squeaking noises and bunching its little claws in his shirt.

He worried that he wouldn’t find Kilgharrah here. Maybe the warlock had already moved on, and he would be stranded here with no way back and no cure for Lin. He’d spent so long convincing himself that failure was not an option that he hadn’t prepared for the eventuality.

Fortunately, he would not be going back empty-handed today.

He saw him when he entered what must have once been some kind of great hall, though little remained now but for an empty shell and a broken altar. Standing beside the raised stone slab was a figure he knew well, and he took a deep breath to steel his nerves before speaking up.

“Kilgharrah.”

The man turned around, yellow eyes narrowed into slits as he surveyed Arthur where he stood. “Ah. I rather wondered if you would come looking for me, boy. But tell me, where is your thieving friend?”

“He’s sick,” Arthur said, taking a tentative step forward. “I’ve come to ask for your help.”

Kilgharrah threw his wizened head back as laughter erupted from him, the sound grating on Arthur’s already frayed nerves.

“I’m serious,” Arthur persisted, reaching into the bag at his side. He withdrew the sword and removed it from its slimy wrappings, and heard Kilgharrah’s laughter grind to a halt. He held it out to the warlock, face set like stone. “I’ve come to return this, and apologise on his behalf. You have your sword back and no harm has been done, so I’m asking you to undo your spell.”

Kilgharrah took two long paces forward, clawed hand reaching out and snatching the sword from his fingers. He ran his nail slowly, thoughtfully across the engravings on the blade, frowning. “What happened to the beetle?”

Arthur winced. “I, uh… I squashed it.”

A second burst of laughter sprang forth from the warlock’s thin lips, his narrow chest shaking. “Squashed it! Good lord, boy, have you any idea what manner of creature that was? A creature of old, dark magic, enchanted by myself to be deadly… and you _squashed_ it!” he wiped a tear of laughter away from the corner of his eye with one knobbly finger. “What did you use, a rolled-up newspaper? Ha!”

“Actually I used my foot, but that’s not the point,” Arthur said, ignoring the fresh howl of laughter it brought forth. “Point is I brought back your sword, and now that you have back what’s rightfully yours I’d really appreciate it if you’d help Lin, please.”

Kilgharrah’s laughter finally slowed to a gentle stop, and he tucked his sword into his robes carefully. “Well, since you ask so nicely. I am not an unreasonable man, my child. And since no lasting harm has been done, I believe it is only fair that I fulfil your request. Although perhaps you will warn that friend of yours for me that any future attempts to steal from me will not end quite so pleasantly. For _either_ of you.”

Arthur gulped. “Understood.”

Kilgharrah’s mouth broke into a crocodilian grin. “Good boy,” he raised one bony hand and snapped his fingers, sparks flying from the contact.

* * *

 

Lin’s eyes blinked open slowly. It took a few moments for the world to come into focus, but he worked out pretty quickly that these were not his chambers. He sat up slowly, and winced as the change in altitude brought on a truly spectacular headache.

“We’ll, I’ll be damned.”

He looked up to see Gaius’ smiling face, his head shaking in happy disbelief. “He did it. He _actually_ did it.”

Lin frowned. “Who? Did what? Gaius, you’re not making any sense.”

“It’s rather a long story, Master Lin,” Gaius said, offering a glass of water that Lin took gratefully. “And I must confess, I’m at a loss to know where to begin with you- how much do you remember?”

“Not much,” Lin admitted, brow furrowing. “I remember flying, and then there were these birds…” a thought occurred to him, and he sprang to his feet. “Where’s Penn?”

Gaius winced. “You might want to sit down again, Master Lin. I have rather a lot to catch you up on.”

* * *

 

“Do you know what it is?”

Kilgharrah squinted at the indistinct shape, reaching out to poke at its insubstantial form with one gnarled claw. “I might have a hunch. Although I think perhaps I’ll need more resources than I have at present,” he nodded sharply towards the altar. “Follow me, we’ll see if we can’t get this odd little friend of yours sorted out.”

Arthur stared as Kilgharrah moved the ancient stone slab aside with a tap of his finger, revealing a steep, dark stone staircase beneath. The warlock began descending them without a second glance, and after a moment of indecision Arthur followed. So far Kilgharrah had shown no signs of wishing him harm, and right now he was his best chance at getting off this island.

He could feel the muted chill of his shadow friend at his back as he picked his way down the stairs. Fortunately Kilgharrah had summoned a small ball of flame in his palm to light the way, although it was still a dangerously steep climb.

After a while the stairs bottomed out, and Kilgharrah flicked his wrist and sent the flame flying. It skittered along the stone walls, lighting the heavy iron torches set at intervals in the rock, and bit by bit the cavern came into view.

Arthur couldn’t stop himself gaping in awe at the echoing expanse, torchlight glittering off stalagmites taller than himself, and barely scratching the surface of the darkness of the abyss that formed several feet in. Beyond that point there was only one large, jagged rock rearing out of the darkness, decorated only by the remains of an enormous iron chain, now strung with cobwebs and lying abandoned. He wondered what could have possibly required a restraint so large, and decided he’d rather not know.

“Ah, yes, here we go…” He heard Kilgharrah muttering, and he tore his eyes away from the view to find to elderly warlock hunched over a wooden apothecary table shoved haphazardly against the wall. He was flicking through an ancient tome with one hand, the other throwing herbs and berries into a mortar. “This ought to do the trick. Bring your friend over here, there’s a good boy.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Arthur said, beckoning the loitering shadow over. “Come on sir-ma’am-uh, _you._ ”

The shadow drifted across the rough stone, hovering at Kilgharrah’s shoulder as the warlock took up the pestle and ground the ingredients into a thick paste. He turned around, presenting the mixture and tilting the mortar invitingly. “Alright then, drink up.”

Something vaguely limb-shaped reached out, wrapping around the container and engulfing it whole (which inspired some very annoyed muttering from the warlock about having to get a new mortar).

The shadow froze, and what Arthur assumed were its legs buckled beneath it. Collapsed on the floor and shaking from top to bottom, it began to shrink and shift, colour and shape returning to the dark, formless void.

Soon the shadow was gone entirely, and a man lay in its place.

Arthur gaped as Kilgharrah knelt beside the prone figure, prodding his shoulder lightly and chuckling. “Just as I thought. Got yourself stuck between the realms, did you? How very careless.”

The man grunted, dark hair falling about his face as he dragged himself upright. He glanced between Arthur and Kilgharrah, blinking his big brown eyes dazedly. “Where’s Guinevere?”

* * *

 

“Morgana.”

The witch’s head snapped up, and her ruby lips curved into a sneer. “Lin. My, my, this is unexpected. No offense, my dear, but I rather thought you’d be dead by now.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, _my lady,_ ” he said with barely masked contempt, striding towards her desk. “Although I have to admit, I had some help.”

“Let me guess- that sweet little human boy,” she said flatly, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve been sweet on him ever since he blundered into town,” she raised her finger before he could protest. “Don’t. Lie to me. I’m neither ignorant nor blind, I know you’ve been meeting up with that obnoxious child in secret. Why do you think I sent you on that fool’s errand to Kilgharrah? I thought a little distraction might be in your best interest.”

 _“’Little distraction?’”_ Lin fumed, slamming his hands down on her desk. “I nearly _died.”_

“Hazards of the job, my dear apprentice,” she simpered, tapping the end of his nose playfully. “You signed a contract, remember?”

“And so did Arthur,” Lin said, revelling in the brief look of shock on Morgana’s face as he called Arthur by his true name. “A contract you’re about to release him from.”

“And why on earth would I do that?” she said, eyes glinting dangerously.

He stood up straight and crossed his arms, glancing meaningfully towards the trapdoor. “Aithusa’s being awfully quiet tonight, isn’t she?”

Her eyes narrowed, her chair scraped back as she stood up gracefully, fingernail carving a fine trail in the wood of the desk as she walked purposefully towards the trapdoor.

“Aithusa?” she called sweetly, rapping lightly on the wood before lifting it. “My darling?”

No response. Confused, she descended the short flight of steps into the darkness.

Moments later, the silent chamber was flooded with her shrill scream.

Her slender hand was around Lin’s throat before he even realised she was back in the room, her ebony hair whipping around her face in her own private storm. He felt her nails dig mercilessly into his skin, jade eyes burning into him.

“You miserable _wretch,” s_ he spat, pressing her palm hard against his oesophagus. “What have you done with her? If you don’t tell me what you and that vile brat have done with her, I will-!”

“Maybe you should ask Kilgharrah,” Lin said, meeting her fiery glare steadily.

That took the wind right out of her sails. “Kilgharrah?” she breathed, her grip loosening.

“He knows it was you, Morgana,” Lin said, his confidence returning. “He knows you sent me to steal from him, and right now Arthur’s returning the sword on my behalf. So tell me, whose side do you think he’ll fight for if you turn this into a blood feud?”

It was as if her magic and rage were sapped with that simple statement, taking a sizeable chunk of her youth with it. She seemed older as she staggered back to her chair, lines and shadows forming on her flawless face, her hair collapsing lifelessly onto her shoulders.

“Arthur,” she hissed, dragging her nails across her desk and snapping a couple in the process. “I should have turned that brat into a lump of coal when I had the chance.”

“Do we have a deal?” Lin pressed, hand outstretched. “Release Arthur and his father back into the mortal world, and I’ll bring Aithusa back and make sure this doesn’t go any further.”

She glared at him, and beauty began to seep back into her as a devilish glint appeared in her eye.

“Oh, I’ll release him,” she said, voice like cut glass. “But not just yet. I have one last little challenge for him, first.”

* * *

 

“The gate closed behind her, and it was like she’d never existed,” the man said quietly, nursing the mug of hot broth Kilgharrah had placed in his hands. “Anything could’ve happened to her…”

“So you followed her,” Arthur finished sadly, squeezing his own mug tighter. The bat on his shoulder chattered, eagerly sipping from the thimble full of the stew clutched in its tiny hands. 

The ex-shadow known to him now as Lancelot nodded. For the last hour or so while he’d been getting his bearings in his newly re-humanised body they’d been sitting around a fire lit by the warlock on the floor of the cavern, filling each other in on the parts of their relative stories that they’d missed while Kilgharrah admired his newly reclaimed sword. Even before hearing the full story from Lancelot, he knew that this was the human man whom Gwen had cared for in his supposed final days- although apparently he wasn’t as easy to get rid of as everyone had thought.

“I didn’t know what I expected to find, but I knew I had to try,” Lancelot said. “So I waited until the next morning, and as soon as the gates were opened once more I went in. I scoured the town all day for her, I got so carried away with the search that I didn’t realise the sun was setting. By the time I noticed it was already too late, and I was trapped. Before long I could feel myself fading away- this world was not meant for mortals.”

Arthur shuddered, remembering all too well how it had felt to see himself dissolving before his very eyes. “And that’s when she found you?”

“By the time she found me I couldn’t speak, my voice had already been lost along with much of my body,” Lancelot said grimly. “I recognised her right away, but she…” he shook his head, and it looked like he was blinking back tears. “She looked at me like I was a stranger.”

“That’s what Morgana does,” Arthur said quietly, fingers going to the goodbye card in his pocket. “Takes your old clothes, your memories, even your name. She almost did it to me, but… well, I had a friend looking out for me.”

“But she cared for me all the same,” Lancelot said with a slight smile. “Even though she didn’t know me.”

Arthur smiled fondly. “Yeah. She does that.”

“I thought for sure I was going to die,” Lancelot continued, frowning. “But even after my body and voice faded completely I was still just _there,_ somehow. I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped in that old town, stuck between the mortal and spirit realms, I’m not even sure how it was possible.”

“It’s unusual, that’s for sure,” Kilgharrah supplied thoughtfully, not looking up from his careful inspection. “Most mortal consciences are too weak to hang on to awareness without a physical form for very long. You must have a very strong will indeed, young man.”

Lancelot ducked his head slightly at the compliment, and Arthur beamed. He was exactly the kind of person he could picture Gwen falling head over heels for.

“However,” Kilgharrah continued, something that sounded almost like regret in his voice. “I wouldn’t advise you going back to Camelot. That town is a spiritual stronghold, and ties to the mortal world are weak at the best of times. I rather doubt you’ll survive should you fade again.”

Lancelot was already shaking his head. “I have to go back. I have to find Guinevere.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Arthur argues, forging on before Lancelot can offer further protests. “But I need to go back. I need to find Lin, and my dad. I’ll see her, I’ll tell her where you are,” he reached out, patting Lancelot’s shoulder. It felt rather surreal offering such reassurance to a boy older than himself, but it had been a very strange sort of week anyway. “She’ll find you, I promise.”

Lancelot didn’t look all too happy about this arrangement, but he nodded. “Guinevere Smith. That’s her full name, her _real_ one.”

“I’ll tell her,” Arthur smiled, toying once more with the edges of his card. It was nice to have a name.

“Well, you seem a pleasant enough young man,” Kilgharrah said in his crackly voice, an amused smile playing about his lips. “You’re welcome to stay here while you wait for this fair lady of yours. You can earn your keep as my assistant for a while, I’m getting far too old to maintain this old place by myself. If you do a half decent job, I may even consider sending you and your sweetheart back to the mortal realm myself.”

“Thank you,” Lancelot said sincerely- although Arthur got the feeling that pretty much everything he did was sincere. “I’d be happy to help. It’s the least I can do, after all you’ve done for me.”

Kilgharrah’s light laughter rattled like gravel in a steel drum. “I must say, I do rather enjoy playing the Good Samaritan. Just once every hundred years or so- it gets ever so tedious if you make it your day job, people always coming up to you wanting favours. I don’t like to advertise my more charitable work.”

“Your secret’s safe with us,” Lancelot smiled. He glanced at Arthur, and frowned. “Are you alright?”

Arthur blinked, looking up. “Yeah. Yes, I’m fine.”

Lancelot remained unconvinced, and Kilgharrah was no easier to fool. “I must admit, you seem troubled, my boy,” the warlock rattled, running his nails through his wispy beard.

“It’s just…” Arthur began, before realising he had absolutely no idea what he was trying to say. “I don’t know. Just thinking, I suppose.”

“A very dangerous habit,” Kilgharrah said dryly, waving his finger and making the fire dance in shapes around the kindling.

“About what?” Lancelot added sympathetically, leaning a little closer.

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Do you ever hear something, something kind of small or insignificant, and just feel like it’s somehow the most important thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Oh, dear,” Kilgharrah said quietly, rolling his eyes. “If I had a penny for every existential crisis…”

“It’s nothing like that,” Arthur said huffily, putting down his barely touched broth. “It’s just that Gaius said something earlier, and it kind of stuck in my head, that’s all. Something about Lin.”

“What did he say?” Lancelot asked, curious.

“He told me about when Lin first came to Camelot,” he said. “He signed a contract with Morgana because he said it was where he _needed_ to be. Said he was waiting for something. I don’t know, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head ever since.”

“Ah,” Kilgharrah breathed, sly smile curling his lips. “Finally. You mortals and your short-term memories, never a dull moment.”

Arthur blinked. “I’m sorry?”                

“Oh, my child, there are many things in this world you do not understand, and many you probably never will. In the meantime, suffice it to say that very few people are as young as they appear, or as they seem to believe,” he reached out a placed one gnarly hand on Arthur’s shoulder in a gesture that was almost comforting. “It will all be clear one day, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Yeah, right,” Arthur said, unconvinced. That still didn’t answer the question of Lin, of why he was so drawn to the other boy, of why they seemed to trust each other to ends of the earth, of why he seemed to be equal parts complete stranger and oldest friend.

The warlock must have been some kind of mind-reader, because he laughed under his breath. “Don’t fret so much, young man. It’ll come to you. Once you meet someone, you never really forget them. Sometimes it just takes a while for the association to sink in.”

“Right. Thanks,” Arthur muttered uncertainly. He probably sounded disrespectful, but fortunately the warlock’s attention had already turned away, his yellow eyes squinting knowingly up at the cavernous ceiling.

“Ah,” he said, sounding amused. “It would seem your ride is here, young man.”

Arthur frowned. “My what?”

* * *

 

“Lin!”

Arthur vaulted the last three steps and all but threw himself at the familiar grey dragon, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face in the soft feathers there. He felt Lin’s snout nuzzle across his hair and tuck against his back, hot breath warming his skin as it rushed out in what Arthur could only assume was a happy sigh.

“I see you’re all better, young warlock,” Kilgharrah piped up, his voice reminding Arthur where he was and causing him to leap back in embarrassment. “I trust you’re quite well enough to give your friend a lift back to the city? I believe I’ve done enough favours today.”

Lin nodded his head, squinting curiously at Lancelot before crouching down slightly and bumping Arthur’s shoulder with his snout. Arthur took the hint, clambering up into the space between his feathered wings and gripping tight to the downy ruff of his neck, glancing at his face to make sure it was okay and getting an amused nod in return.

Kilgharrah watched them with something that was almost approaching fondness. “Ah, some things never change. Well, you’d best be off- and young warlock, I don’t suppose I need to tell you that any future attempts to steal from me won’t end pleasantly,” after receiving a frantic little nod in return, he chuckled. “Good boy. Now, off you go.”

“Thank you,” Arthur called down as Lin’s great wings began to move. “For everything!” another thought occurred to him as he felt the tiny bat snuggling into the pocket of his jeans. “Oh! What about, er, her?”

“Oh, don’t worry about Aithusa,” Kilgharrah said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ve left my dear neice with the means to break that spell herself- she’ll turn back just as soon as she’s prepared to behave like a dragon as opposed to a spoiled brat. Call it character building.”

“Oh, okay,” Arthur frowned, not satisfied but not willing to push his luck any further with the warlock. At least he knew the dragon-turned-bat's name, now. “Well, thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Kilgharrah said, at least partially truthfully. “But don’t make a habit of it.”

“Lancelot!” Arthur shouted as Lin’s paws left the ground. “She’ll find you, I promise!”

Lancelot gave him a brave smile and a wave, and then they were gone.

* * *

 

Kilgharrah watched their departure with a strange sense of contentment, the like of which he hadn’t felt in many long, lonely years. “Tell me, young man,” he said to Lancelot, holding out the sword for his inspection. “What do you see when you look at this?”

Lancelot blinked, mildly confused. “I see a sword. A beautiful sword, probably quite new…”

“Two out of three, not bad,” Kilgharrah chuckled, gazing fondly and the gleaming blade. “But Excalibur here is much, much older than it appears. And it has been without purpose for far too long.”

He set off at a brisk walk towards the lake, and Lancelot followed close behind. “I helped craft this sword myself, many years ago. I helped the blade reach its full potential, made it a weapon fit for a king. And not just any king, oh no. None but the greatest could wield it. It belongs, now and forever, to the Once and Future King. This blade has been devoid of purpose for far, far too long. But no matter.”

The lake awaited them. Avalon, the waters where many a great soul had come to rest. The place where Excalibur would once more await its destiny.

Kilgharrah smiled. “I do believe its time is coming.”

* * *

 

At first there was nothing, just endless fog. But they rose and rose, Lin’s powerful wingbeats taking them higher, and finally they broke the surface.

Arthur laughed delightedly as they skimmed across the mist, sending the vapour rippling away with every gust of air from the dragon’s wings. With every beat closer to the city the fog thinned, and eventually he could see the lake glistening in the muted firelight of the distant castle. But the sky was the real jewel in the crown tonight. Above the clouds and mist, away from artificial light of his hometown and the fires of Camelot, the stars went on forever. He’d never seen anything like it.

He released his hold on Lin’s shoulders, stretching his arms above his head and letting himself fall onto his back, gazing directly up at constellations he’d never even heard of from between the dragon’s mighty wings and feeling like he was seeing the sky for the first time.

He rolled his head to the side, eyes running the length of Lin’s wing in awe. Sleek but powerful, grey like storm clouds, carrying them through the air like they weighed nothing. It was amazing.

It was also oddly familiar.

He reached out, lightly brushing his fingers over the feathers at its base, a half-formed memory fighting to surface. A dream fading into waking. A life willing to be remembered.

“You know, Lin,” he said, his voice barely a whisper and yet he knew his friend would hear him. “Sometimes I have the strangest dreams.”

He closed his eyes, letting the gentle rustle of feathers and the cool rush of the wind carry him. “I dream that I’m a prince. I ride a horse, I charge into battle and I slay monsters. It’s always so scary and exciting, all at the same time, but somehow when I have those dreams I feel… like I’m home. But I’m never alone.”

He smiled, grazing his fingers lightly across Lin’s feathers. “There’s a bird. It’s fast, and loyal, and grey like storm clouds, but its eyes are blue like a summer’s day. Somehow it’s always there for me when I need it most, and just as much when I don’t really need at it all- but I’m still glad it’s there.

“A few years ago, I saw it. Not in a dream. Me and father were out walking, taking this old trail through the forest, and I saw it in a tree. Of course, I ran towards it, and moments later a branch fell right where I’d been standing… somehow it had saved my life again. I pointed to it, called for dad before it flew away, and I asked him what it was. He told me it was a pigeon hawk, but its proper name was… merlin.”

He feels Lin tense up beneath him, and Arthur opens his eyes to stare in wonder at the sky once more. “I think it was you,” he said, a smile breaking across his face before he could stop it. “And your real name is Merlin.”

And then the ground fell away from under him.

He was only freefalling for a second, mouth open in shock, before he was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug.

The young wizard known as Merlin grinned into his shoulder, lanky arms wrapped round him in a surprisingly strong grip and breathless laughter pouring out of him.

“That’s it!” he laughed, squeezing Arthur a little tighter if that was possible. “You brilliant _idiot,_ you figured it out! Merlin! My name, it’s _Merlin!”_

“And mine’s about to be ‘Dead’ if you don’t stop squeezing so tight,” Arthur said, but Merlin’s laughter was contagious, and he hugged him back without a second’s hesitation.

“Sorry,” Merlin chuckled, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “I remember. That day in the woods. I let you see me because I saw the branch, I knew it was going to fall and I couldn’t let you get hurt.”

“You knew my name, the day we met," Arthur said, grinning as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. A part of Merlin must have remembered him. "But why were you following me in the first place? And in my dreams, how were you-?”

“I was told to look after you,” Merlin said. “That’s what all the other druids told me- I was destined to protect you. I didn’t understand why and I resented it, at first, but…” he trailed off, and Arthur smiled giddily.

“But I kind of grew on you?” he finished the sentence for him, earning a snort and a smack on the shoulder from Merlin.

“Yeah, I suppose,” the warlock muttered. “You’re still a clotpole, though.”

“Of course,” Arthur laughed, before his brow furrowed in concern. “Uh, Merlin? Not to spoil the moment but we _are_ kind of about to die.”

“What? _Oh,_ right, sorry,” Merlin exclaimed, flicking his wrist and suspending their fall with magic moments before they crashed to the water’s surface. He adjusted their position, hovering side by side with Arthur, one arm round each other, and grinned. “Home, m’lord?”

“About time,” Arthur joked. Merlin rolled his eyes but, loyal friend that he was, only pretended to drop him once or twice en route to the castle.

* * *

 

“At last,” Morgana sneered, eyeing the two boys who dropped lightly to the ground in front of her. “You certainly took your time.”

“Morgana,” Arthur greeted, nodding to the curious crowd that had assembled around the plaza. He caught sight of Gaius, Gwen and Gwaine amongst the gathering, and gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile before turning back to the witch. “I hear you have a challenge you want to give me?”

“Leaving this world is no easy task, child,” she said, malicious glint in her eye. “And I have to set an example,” she turned to Merlin, narrowing her eyes. “And I see you’ve failed to return my darling Aithusa.”

Arthur’s pocket rustled, and the tiny white bat clambered out. It fluttered to the ground at Morgana’s feet, and shook out its tiny wings.

Within seconds the bat was gone, and the fledgling dragon stood in its place.

“Aithusa!” Morgana shrieked, hands snapping up to run over the dragon’s scales soothingly. “What did they do to you, are you hurt? Are you-?”

“Mother,” Aithusa said, nudging her with her snout gently. “I’m okay. Me and Arthur had a good time. He’s my friend, now.”

Morgana looked about as surprised as Arthur. “…Thanks?” he said uncertainly.

Aithusa turned to him with something like a smile teasing her reptilian lips. “Things are less scary with you.”

Arthur met the dragon’s gaze, and felt oddly warm inside. Something about earning the creature’s trust resonated deeply with him. He couldn’t even hold her earlier hostility against her- in the end she was just a scared kid, realising for the first time just how the real world worked. They actually had quite a lot in common in that respect.

“A deal’s a deal, Morgana,” Merlin said, stepping forward. “Aithusa for Arthur’s contract.”

“Not so fast, my dear apprentice,” she said, face devoid of all sympathy. “I promised him a final challenge, too. I would hold you to your word.”

Aithusa stared her down with her big, soulful eyes. “Don’t make him cry.”

She ground her teeth. “Of course not, sweetheart. Just a little _friendly competition,_ that’s all,” she said, although her voice was the opposite of friendly.

Merlin looked ready to start a fight, but Arthur put his hand on his arm. “It’s alright,” he said quietly, meeting Merlin’s eyes and giving him a nod. His friend reluctantly returned the gesture and stepped back, motioning for Morgana to continue.

She sneered, and clicked her slender fingers. A couple of servants hurried to her side, carrying between them a small table with two identical goblets and setting it down before her.

“It’s a simple enough game, really,” she said sweetly, tapping her nail on the table. “Inside one of these goblets is a harmless cordial, and in the other…” she snapped her fingers again, and another servant appeared. This one held a rope, which was attached to a harness, which was fastened around an enormous pig that Arthur recognised immediately. “The cure for your father’s unfortunate condition. The game is simply this: you will drink from one goblet, your father from the other. If you get it right and give him the medicine, then you will both be returned to the mortal world unharmed. If not… well, then I’ll see you at eight o’clock sharp for work in the morning, and we’ll be having bacon for breakfast. You may each drink from only one goblet, and you get only one chance,” she smirked cruelly, pushing both goblets towards him. “I’d advise you to choose wisely.”

Arthur took a deep breath and leaned in, inspecting both goblets careful. They were identical down to the last detail, as were the liquids inside. There was really no sure-fire way to choose between them. Unless…

“Unless we remove the uncertainty,” he said quietly, smiling. “You didn’t say anything about pouring the liquids into other cups,” he picked up both goblets, grinning. “If I pour the contents of this one into that one, we have one drink with a guaranteed cure, which I give to my father. You didn’t say I couldn’t drink from an empty cup.”

Morgana was beginning to turn an unflattering shade of purple. “No! You can’t do that, the rules-!”

“Didn’t specify what he could or couldn’t do,” Merlin finished, grinning broadly. “At no point was it made clear that he couldn’t combine the mixtures.”

“But-!” she stuttered, her rage beginning to send her skirts and hair roiling around her.

“But nothing,” Arthur said firmly. “I win,” he moved to pour the contents of one goblet into the other.

“No!” she shrieked, slapping the first goblet out of his hands and splattering the deep red liquid over the table.

Arthur stared at her, but for once he wasn’t afraid. He looked at her now and all her saw was a wilful, spoiled child. “Why are you so desperate to win? Is it really so humiliating, that someone might beat you just this once?”

She remained silent in her anger, but her gaze flickered almost guiltily between the cups. Understanding dawned on Arthur, and he put the other goblet down slowly.

“You’re not angry because I outsmarted you,” he said quietly, pointing at the liquid she’d spilled. “You’re angry because I was about to reveal you as a cheater.”

She hissed between her teeth, fists clenching at her sides.

“Neither of the cups has the cure,” Arthur said, sure without a doubt now that she had rigged the contest. “Whichever one I chose, I was going to lose. The contents of both those cups wouldn’t cure my father, and everyone was about to see that.”

Mutters of dissent began amongst the gathered crowd, and Morgana looked like she wasn’t sure whether to scream or run away.

Arthur stepped back, meeting her gaze firmly. “I think me and my father will be leaving now.”

She nodded tightly, summoning his contract into her hand and sending it up and flames with a swipe of her thumb. “Congratulations,” she said coldly. “Perhaps you’re not as stupid as I thought.”

Their observers burst into loud cries and cheers, and Arthur grinned. He’d really done it.

He felt a hand slide into his own, and turned round to see Merlin’s grinning face. “Ready to go home?”

“Yes, please,” Arthur beamed, letting the lanky boy tow him along. “What about my father?”

“You won the bet, so he’s free too,” Merlin said, not slowing down. “As soon as the spell’s reversed they’ll leave him by the tunnel, he’s probably already waiting.”

Arthur felt his smile fade slightly. What would his father say about all this? How could he go back to the life he’d had, knowing that it would be like none of this had ever happened?

Sensing his indecision, Merlin squeezed his hand. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You did it. You saved him. Actually, you saved a lot of people. I know that, even if he never does.”

“Yeah,” Arthur murmured, looking down at their entwined hands with a small smile. “Yes, I do.”

They reached the gates to Camelot, and Merlin slowed to halt. Arthur looked up and grinned- not a drop of water as far as the eye could see.

“Here’s your chance,” Merlin smiled. “He’s waiting for you, up there by the tunnel. It’ll be like you never left.”

“Not to me,” Arthur said, shaking his head. How could he ever forget this?

“You’d better get going,” Merlin said, squeezing his hand once more before letting go.

Arthur turned to him, and a horrifying thought occurred to him. “I’ll see you again, won’t I? I mean… this isn’t goodbye?”

Merlin shook his head. “No. Not if I can help it. I’m going to have a little talk with Morgana- I think it’s officially time to submit my resignation.”

“And will that work?”

“I’ve got my name back,” Merlin said, smiling. “There’s nothing more she can hold me with.”

“What about Gwen?” Arthur said, panicking. “Oh, god, I didn’t even say goodbye, and I still need to tell her-!”

“Hey,” Merlin said gently, putting affirm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring her a message.”

Arthur nodded, taking a deep breath. “Tell her that her real name is Guinevere Smith, and that Lancelot is waiting for her- he’s with Kilgharrah on the Isle of the Blessed.”

Merlin nodded. “I’ll tell her. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “And say thank you to Gaius for me, okay?”

“Of course,” Merlin smiled. “Now go on, Morgana could change her mind any minute, and Uther’s probably getting impatient. Don’t look back until you’re through the tunnel.”

“Right,” Arthur nodded, but still he hesitated. “Uh, Merlin?”

The warlock cocked his head to the side slightly. “Yes?”

Arthur thought about how furious Uther would be if he could see him right now. He decided, just this once, to stop caring what his father thought.

He leaned forward, fast as lightning, and planted the tiniest kiss on the surprised Merlin’s lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Merlin’s smile put the sun to shame. “And to you,” he murmured, stepping back. “Now go. Don’t look back.”

Arthur nodded, looked at Merlin for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time, and turned his back.

* * *

 

It was a long walk back to the arch, and he was both relieved and exasperated to see his father standing by the entrance, tapping his foot impatiently.

“There you are!” he complained, shaking his head. “Where on Earth have you been? This isn’t a holiday, Arthur, we have things to do and- why are you smiling?”

“What?” Arthur grinned.

Uther stared at him like he’d lost his marbles, and shook his head again. “Honestly,” he muttered, turning on his heel and striding towards the tunnel.

It took all of Arthur’s willpower not to glance back over his shoulder as he followed.

The walk through the tunnel felt just as endless as the first time, if for very different reasons. When they reached the other side, the only way he knew this vivid, wild land wasn’t the spirit world again was because of his father’s loud cursing.

“What the devil?” he growled, brushing leaves and dust off the car. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”

Arthur ignored him, choosing instead to look back through the tunnel once more. Somehow the dark wasn’t so scary anymore. He laid his hand gently on the carved stone head of the dragon statue, feeling the wind whistling through the tunnel and imagining the cool breath of a spirit sending it his way. It reminded him of the wind in his hair as he and Merlin soared through the skies, of the indoor monsoon caused by the Lady of the Lake. So many wonderful, impossible things that he may never see or speak of again.

But no one, not even his father, would ever take them away from him.

“Arthur!” Uther’s voice broke into his thoughts, horn honking impatiently. “Get in, we’re late! We’ve done quite enough dilly-dallying already.”

Arthur slowly backed away from the tunnel, not taking his eyes off it for a second as he slid back into the car. The crushed remains of his flowers were still there, unchanged since he’d left them. He carefully removed the label from his pocket and placed it back with them.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’ve brightened up,” Uther said mildly as he negotiated them back out of the narrow clearing they’d backed themselves into. “I admit I may have been slightly unfair before. New house, new town, new school. It’s certainly a big change…”

Arthur thought of goblins and gremlins, soot sprites and spirits. Witches and warlocks and all kinds of wonderful, terrifying, impossible things that this world would never know. Yet here he was, safe and sound, confident in his survival and warm with the memory of a certain smiling face, and the bright blue eyes he’d never been without.

He smiled, leaning his head against the window. “I think I’ll be alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, if you made it all the way to the end congratulations. It got away from me a bit tbh.
> 
> Anyway, never written anything for these characters before so I might have lost sight of them a little bit, but I tried and therefore no one can judge me. Obviously if anyone has feedback I'd appreciate it! (but please be kind, I stayed up so late writing this, you have no idea, by the time I went to bed the birds were singing)
> 
> Hope to come back to Merthur in future, no idea when that may be but until then, stay awesome! I'm super proud of everyone in this fandom for still creating such amazing things even though we've been cancelled for years, your will to survive is truly awe-inspiring. Keep rockin' on! X


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